StarSeekers
by Joan Milligan
Summary: A new quest for the Wolfriders!
1. Prologue: Catch the Wind

Author's note: this story will be very long, as in probably 300 text pages. You've been warned. Also, there may be some continuity glitches, but you'll have to forgive them. All in all it's worth the read.  
  
  
  
1 ElfQuest: StarSeekers  
  
An Epic tale of fantasy and adventure  
  
By Joan Milligan  
  
1.1 Based upon ElfQuest, © Richard and Wendy Pini, WaRP graphics  
  
  
  
1.1.1 Prologue: Catch the Wind  
  
  
  
He could've been flying for days.  
  
Could've been, because it would not have mattered, might've been, because he stopped counting, should've been, because he probably had.  
  
He felt his weight pulling to the ground, his body screaming for rest, the agonized tugging of the injured wing.  
  
He put his mind to other things, and it lasted but minutes before everything slammed back into focus, brutally, as it did several times during his impossible journey.  
  
He was king of the sky, and he was being usurped. Like the dying hawk cast from the heavens to the unforgiving earth, all while screaming its mindless defeat, not understanding, not willing itself to understand, angry at the skies for their betrayal. Like the shot falcon, the raging bird of prey that was nothing on the ground, his hour came round at last.  
  
Still he resisted, and flew on, every mile of the way taking its toll. Something in one wing snapped continuously, and the monotonous, sickening sound gave him something to concentrate on, before the pain came, before the memories.  
  
He saw her image in his dreams every night.  
  
Every time, she was there. Her laughing eyes, her long, smooth brown hair, her tiny figure, so much smaller than him, so much stronger. So strange, those beaming orbs, that small body, like a child's, yet harder than a child has ever been, those stringy muscles all over her, the cold-burnt cheeks. She was tough; she was a warrior, a woman of the wilderness. That fire he saw in her, unlike anything ever to be seen in his old home, among the calm, the content, the lazy, it was there, and it haunted him. Every night, sleeping alone and cold on the bare ground, every time he slipped away while in the air, waken a moment later by the rushing wind, every second, he saw the fire he had fallen in love with.  
  
Every night, she slipped away anew.  
  
He gritted his teeth and tried to fly on, he truly did try. He would make a point of insisting he did whenever asked, even months later.  
  
Let the cool, slapping air take the image away; let it erase his nightmares. Let it erase his pain, his shame, his anger. He gave in to the loving wind, the unforgiving wind, the wind that was his - has always been his, wings or no wings. It was his by birthright, magic or no magic. It was his because he dared to catch it.  
  
It was his, the wind - he earned it. It would hold him a while more.  
  
She dared to catch the wind, too - she reached for it endlessly. She walked into it, so fearless, so proud, unbending, firm and fierce. And he loved her madly for that. She had no wings, and she dared to fly.  
  
She would go on, she would want him to go on.  
  
So he fought against the wind, the unforgiving wind. He shouted and cursed at the wind. He cursed the long days and the cold ground and his one injured wing and the despair, he laughed bitterly and mocked the spins and wells of air and the mountaintops. He had empty, raging words for them all. He consumed the last of his breath daring the wind to leave him.  
  
The treetops were there, a mess of lush green beneath him, their small branches bending in the wind. Bend or break, the forest knew, but he never lived in the forest, he never knew how to bend.  
  
This was far enough, the wind and exhaustion told him. They will find him if he landed here. He can give up, he can end this, he can rest. He pushed on.  
  
She would go on, and she would want him to go on.  
  
Then again.  
  
She wasn't here anymore.  
  
"Kahvi. . ." Tyldak whispered into the increasing wind as it slammed into him, fought and overcame him and forced him down, broken and despaired, near the New Holt. 


	2. One: Stormbringer

Disclaimer: see prologue.  
  
I must apologize in advance for any formatting errors. I do suck at computer stuff. Hopefully the story will be good enough for those things to not matter too much. *This* is used to emphasize, since HTML and me are miles away.  
  
  
  
Dialogue key:  
  
"Speech"  
  
'Thought'  
  
*(Sending)  
  
  
  
1.1.1 Chapter One: Stormbringer  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Learn!" They whispered, "Ask! Strive! Do not simply believe - know! Be more  
  
than miserable, forgotten savages, left to the mercies of this world!"  
  
Tom McGowen, "Odyssey from River Bend"  
  
  
  
  
  
When he was but two eights old, a young Brightmane, very imaginative, eager and full of himself, took the name Skywise, and had been trying to live up to it ever since.  
  
He was the Wolfriders' stargazer - an ambitious, dreamy soul with blue eyes permanently fixed on the night sky. He saw wonders in them, and life, and opportunity. He saw in them the destiny Elvenkind seemed to have lost with the fall of the High Ones.  
  
The stars beckoned to Skywise, and he was no longer young - their call, it seemed, was gathering a measure of urgency.  
  
He lay on his back as he often did in the cool evenings, sighing as he studied the sparkling dots of light dancing their slow dance above his head. He was friend and advisor to his chief and skilled in all practices of life as dictated by the Way. But he was no powerful fighter, no unmatched hunter, no skilled tracker. He was a stargazer, and had no place in the Now of Wolf Thought and Wolfrider life.  
  
He flipped over to lie on his stomach and prodded the grass. He had not felt this useless since he was an untrained cub.  
  
Cutter Kinseeker, chief of the Wolfriders, emerged from his eons of sleep harder, wiser and more self-assured than ever before. Skywise was, yes, but a cub near his longtime friend. Cutter no longer needed his council. That by itself did not bother the stargazer as much as he supposed it would - he was grateful, in his own way. But Cutter emerged with all traces of his love and lust for adventure, for questing gone. He wanted a home, his family and peace of mind. Of the reckless young chief he knew was left an old, tired husk - Cutter had seen too many seasons turn alone.  
  
He emerged to his home, his family, his peace, the New Holt was a vivid green under the light spring rains and he had not even missed seeing his cubs grow. But for Skywise, his soul-brother, his companion in peril and journey, the Holt was a death trap of boredom and frustration.  
  
'I miss your reckless days, Tam', the silver-haired Elf thought sadly, glancing back at his beloved stars.  
  
He heard steps approach when they were still a few yards away, caught a scent on the wind before the Elf he smelled could sneak up on him. With his wolf blood gone, everything was less sharp, less real, but he was old enough to remember.  
  
"Shade and sweet water, Zhantee," Skywise said dryly, making the Sun- villager jump.  
  
"It's not fair how you Wolfriders do this to us," Zhantee complained as, in a few agile hops, he came and settled on the grass next to the younger Elf. Skywise blinked realizing even Zhantee, bouncy, free-spirited, headstrong Zhantee, was older than him. "We feel like impostors."  
  
The stargazer's chuckle was bitter. "Remember who you talk to, 'cub'". The irony was not lost on either of them. Zhantee refrained from answering - Skywise hated to think of the reasons for the Jack-wolfrider's silence. He wanted neither faked ignorance nor pity.  
  
It was not his fault, the way things happened to have rolled along, but he had a nagging feeling the entire tribe looked at him with contempt behind his back. Bitterness rose in him in large waves crashing to the shore of the otherwise peaceful moment.  
  
"High Ones, they're beautiful . . . " Zhantee whispered suddenly.  
  
Skywise blinked. "What, the stars? Have you never noticed?"  
  
The Sun-villager shook his head briefly, and his eyes bounced immediately back to the sky. "Dart taught us of the Now of Wolf Thought. We . . . look different places," he smiled faintly. "But I've always liked the stars."  
  
The silver-haired Elf nodded, feeling a sudden kinship to this almost- stranger from the desert depths. He'd make a good stargazer - perhaps one day. But the tribe would never need another stargazer. Their current one was effectively immortal, and had no more dangers left to rush headfirst into. Still, he - they - could always wonder what lay there, away, beyond this small world on its deserts and forests and mountains that seemed much smaller against the starry background.  
  
"Do you ever wonder?"  
  
The Wolfrider found his trail of thoughts shattered. "Wonder?"  
  
"About what they are, what lies out there," Zhantee spoke the words with impressive casualness, lying back. "In the Sun-Village they tell the cubs that those are little eyes that look into your head, but I never believed that, I think," he sighed. "I think - I think there must be something more than the magic and the legends and the now, but I can't think of what."  
  
Skywise felt something cringe somewhere inside him - had he not wondered, and been disappointed every time? Yet before he could answer, Zhantee leaped up from the grass, slamming a hand against his forehead.  
  
"I forgot! A few of us are going to the edge of the forest. Dewshine sent me to ask you if you'd like to join us," he shrugged and spoke more quietly. "She said you looked like your own wolf-friend bit you. I thought that didn't happen . . . "  
  
"It doesn't," Skywise replied with a smile. He stood up, stretched, and for a moment felt grateful. So someone had noticed his discomfort - he'd been waiting a while. "I think I'll come. There's bound to be quite a view."  
  
Zhantee nodded and sprang like an arrowhead into the thick mass of trees, leaving the stargazer to contemplate the night sky alone a few more moments before he followed. So, Dewshine, High Ones bless her soul, knew something was eating at her friend. Did she think a better view of the stars would make him feel better?  
  
Somehow, as he walked away into the forest, Skywise couldn't help but think it will only serve to make things worse.  
  
******************************  
  
The trees were a beautiful green, even where the forest faded. The ground there formed a rocky bulge; thin, yellow grass covered its hard surface. This was the cubs' favored spot when there still were cubs, and Tyleet and Venka could spend hours on the small hilltop, sitting around a fire and hearing stories under the endless velvety dark. Now it was still remembered as a place of howling and laughing, and though the chatters of youth were gone, the stars remained.  
  
Skywise fell in love with the place from the moment he had first seen it - it was nothing short of Recognition. The space, the darkness, the solitude, he could not ask for more. in the first few months, at least.  
  
It struck a pang of pain in him now, seeing it from the distance. He was suddenly aware that he was evading the hill in the last couple of weeks.  
  
"Don't be such a puckernut face, Skywise!" Ember piped up, hopping and skipping around the rocks that dotted the edges of the wood. "This is a night for a howl, two or three at that!"  
  
Redlance grabbed the girl's wrist and put a finger to his lips, frowning. The stargazer found himself grateful.  
  
Ah, the silence.  
  
And the darkness.  
  
And the stars.  
  
The older in the small group stopped in their tracks as Tyleet and the twins rushed forward. The night wind was cool and reviving on their faces, crickets chirped, the thin grass swished. The wolf pack howled deep in the forest behind them, a pleasing, almost musical sound that died out as quickly as it began, leaving them with the utter peace that was, many thought, the best feature of the New Holt.  
  
Then the night was pierced by a shriek.  
  
Skywise chided himself for not immediately recognizing the voice a while later - but now he merely stood puzzled as Redlance leaped forward. "That was Tyleet! The cubs -!"  
  
Zhantee, Dewshine and Strongbow were already ahead of him. As one, the two Wolfriders and Sun-Villager were off to the top of the hill. Skywise and Redlance labored to match their friends' speed, the cool air slapping their faces suddenly. It was a short run, an anxious, perhaps careless burst of speed. Tyleet did not cry out again, but no other sounds came from her or the two cubs. Frightened and worried out of their Elfin minds, the five came to a scrambling halt on the hilltop, where Tyleet stood, not at all frightened, hiding behind her the pale, curiously peeking Suntop and Ember.  
  
"My eyes see with joy . . .!" Redlance whispered in silent thanks and rushed forth to his cub's side. The others had not even the time to take another step before he, too, stopped cold, staring at something on the grass.  
  
"Come," the tree-shaper said, his voice strangely husky. "Look."  
  
They did, with slow suspicion, each wondering what could have shocked Redlance so. Tyleet was young - Ember and Suntop, while cubs of a chief, were still cubs. But Redlance - an elder.  
  
At the first second, none of them understood what they were seeing, some twisted shape on the yellow grass . . . Then, with growing horror, they realized the faint movement was that of breath, the dark patches pools of blood, the living, terribly injured creature that lay there on the hilltop was an Elf.  
  
"Timmorn's blood . . ." Dewshine mumbled, her face going white. "It's Tyldak!"  
  
It was. And the sudden familiarity made the sight no easier to bare.  
  
But eons of hard lives and hard deaths made the Wolfriders tough, used to sights of pain and terror. Sensitive ears quickly caught the sounds of a fading breath, and from that moment on, there were no questions or shock, no thoughts of friendship or enmity. There was the Now, and the now dictated swift, merciful action. That is, perhaps, its greatest merit.  
  
They had little trouble carrying the unconscious Glider back to the Holt. The long, wiry Elfin limbs' weight went unnoticed on five pairs of strong hands. Dewshine felt, with a deep-rooted pang of concern mixed with certain fear, that her rejected lifemate was little more than skin and bones - he has neither eaten not rested in quite a while.  
  
She gritted her teeth and lowered her head. No, this wasn't right. She *didn't* care for him.  
  
The small group scrambled into the Holt with all due speed and all due carefulness, and soon was virtually besieged by curious onlookers. At the smell of Elfin blood, the whole tribe seemed to have slid down from the trees, and was now huddled together for a better look. Surprise registered on most faces; others showed fear, and yet others - gloat? Anger?  
  
Panting from the hurried walk, Skywise was only able to cast a wide-eyed glance around him (on the edge of his vision, Venka, quietly anxious, asking after her mother . . .), before Strongbow's sending rang like thunder in all surrounding minds.  
  
*(Get back! Back, you Troll-brains! He needs air to breath more than your worry!)  
  
*(He needs Leetah,) Dewshine sent desperately as the crowd scattered like scolded cubs. Skywise nodded, and was ready to call out when Cutter and Leetah, the chief of the Wolfriders and his lifemate the Healer, appeared as the rims of the group and worked their way toward its center.  
  
There was not much in the world that was left that could surprise Cutter, Skywise noticed far too soon after their reunion. His soul-brother's loss of wanderlust did not trouble him half as much as that one fact did. Wonder! What else was there in the world worth living for?  
  
He never said that out loud, of course, and avoided sending like wildfire when the subject came up. He did not want the chief to laugh at his face - but that was unimportant. What truly frightened Skywise, perhaps, was that Cutter might agree.  
  
Cutter might say it was natural, might claim it will happen to Skywise too, when he has seen enough.  
  
The stargazer banished that thought with terrified hastiness.  
  
"Well," Cutter said, smiling slightly as he walked through the crowd, the sights that shocked them still hidden from him. "What has my tribe . . . brought home . . ." his eyes abruptly widened, and his gaze snapped up to meet Skywise's. "Today . . ."  
  
"We found him on the hilltop," Tyleet said by the way of apology.  
  
"Like this?" Leetah choked out.  
  
"We didn't - !" Dewshine erupted, much to the surprise of all present. Cutter swiftly moved to her side, placing a hand on her small shoulder.  
  
"I believe you," he said quietly, turning to Leetah then. "Lifemate?"  
  
For a moment, the Healer seemed lost. She stood frozen, her eyes charting realms unknown. It had been just a moment, the merest, smallest fraction of a second, but in that instant Cutter knew she was looking, calm and challenging, into the very eyes of death.  
  
Looking - confronting - and setting out to do battle.  
  
"By the Father Tree, somewhere," the beautiful Elf said absent-mindedly, moving away from the crowd. None followed her. They scattered back to their tasks and their trees. From this moment on, this is where the Healer threads alone.  
  
Soon the small group was at the shade of the Father Tree, laying the still unmoving winged Elf on the soft grass between ancient roots, and left Leetah to her battle, which she fought ruthlessly, no matter whose life she was fighting for. It has always been a struggle - holding onto the soul while the body was being mended, giving her own strength to the healed - and she lived for it. In the magical glow, she saw crushed bones, torn muscles, pierced skin, all resorted, and too pride in a task well done.  
  
She let go, exhausted, after several minutes, the light dissipating into the cool night air. She leaned back and sighed in drained relief, then, squinting in surprise, realized Tyldak was very much awake, and staring at her as if he'd never expected to see anything again.  
  
"You're safe now," she assured him softly.  
  
"I know," came the weak reply.  
  
"What has happened?" Leetah felt remotely angry at herself for making him talk, or stay awake, for the matter, yet something she felt in the healing struggle perked her curiosity beyond any other thought.  
  
"A Holt . . . made of metal . . ." fading back to unconsciousness, he tried hard to answer and she could see it. "And Kahvi . . . she . . ."  
  
No, not now.  
  
"Later," she said with resolve. "Sleep, now."  
  
"But your chief . . . I have to . . ." no use. Exhaustion overcame the Glider. He let himself fade away into the merciful darkness, a silent, full sleep, more peaceful than anything he ever knew in weeks, dreamless, painless.  
  
Tired but pleased, Leetah rose from the grass. Turning around, away from the thick Father Tree, she noticed Cutter, Treestump, Skywise and Strongbow glancing at her direction, exchanging whispered words. Seeing her stand, the chief approached his lifemate with all the careful silence of a hunter, the other Elders following him. They made no more noise than a falling leaf, and the Healer was grateful.  
  
"Please don't wake him," she whispered. "He has seen hard times recently."  
  
Her lifemate nodded. *(Did he tell you anything? Why he came here?)  
  
*(He mentioned Kahvi . . .) Leetah frowned, *( . . . and a Holt . . . made of metal.)  
  
Cutter visibly blinked. Treestump and Strongbow exchanged puzzled glances, perhaps lock-sending, then looked back at her with expectant disbelief.  
  
Despite his every instinct, Skywise felt a sudden, wild rush of thrill run down his spine, flooding through his body and filling every limb. He gave in to the sensation, as if momentarily. Wonder!  
  
Pouting, Treestump dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand and a set sending. *(Fever dreams. They would muddle a better Elf's head.)  
  
*(And I am too good a healer to allow them,) Leetah shot back, her pride clearly hurt.  
  
Strongbow's sending contained the closest mental equivalent to a snort. *(So you believe the rambling of this . . . creature of the Black Snake?)  
  
*(Will the great warrior now hunt his wounded kin?) The Healer replied bravely.  
  
The archer gave a sudden growl and almost lunged for her. Amazed by her own actions Leetah drew a knife. Cutter and Skywise leaped forward, the stargazer colliding powerfully against Strongbow, pushing him back. Leetah found herself hidden and protected by the bulk of her lifemate. As soon as anger flared it died out, and Strongbow stepped back, blinking, as if he failed to realize what he almost did in his rage.  
  
*(I'm sorry,) he choked out. *(I'm so sorry - )  
  
Cutter opened his mouth to reply, a low grunt, quiet and threatening, coming from the back of his throat, like a wolf scolding its lower companion. Before he could either send or speak, Leetah hurried forth and placed a hand on his chest, her gaze meeting his.  
  
She looked back to Strongbow then, sending simply. *(You're forgiven.)  
  
A sound from the grass behind the small group attracted their attention. Turning, the healer noted with certain anger that the noise of their tussle was sufficient to wake Tyldak, who was now groggily attempting to rise, half-leaning on the Father Tree.  
  
Leetah and Skywise rushed to the winged Elf's aid, their small, strong arms forcing him to a strange sitting position among the enormous roots. Much to the former's surprise, he looked anything but healed - pale, weak and disoriented, his large brown eyes didn't focus on them and his speech came out in tormented pants as he addressed Cutter.  
  
"You - Kinseeker! I've traveled weeks to find you! Y-you must . . . see what I have seen.!"  
  
The others gave Cutter puzzled looks, but the chief's voice was firm when he replied. "The metal Holt - is that what you mean? You've seen a . . . metal Holt?"  
  
"Yes . . .! Trees and bushes a-and . . . streams of shining metal . . . and Elves with . . . thunder-magics, and branches that spit fire . . .!"  
  
Cutter glanced back at his tribesmen. Strongbow and Treestump's opinion was clear. Fever dreams.  
  
Still, when his eyes locked on Skywise's, there was something in his soul- brother's gaze that made him think - made him imagine . . .  
  
"Tell us more," he said finally.  
  
But the words left his mouth a moment too late, as Tyldak lost his struggle with sleep once more. He slumped unconscious against the roots, and that was perhaps his bout of luck, for when the great wings fell, Skywise caught a startling shine of silver embedded in the bony arm.  
  
The stargazer kneeled swiftly, carefully probing for the mysterious sliver. He looked back at Leetah. "The wing's broken. Didn't you . . .?"  
  
"I felt . . . an oddity," she admitted. "I preferred to save my strength, try later."  
  
Skywise frowned, unsheathing his knife. "There's something stuck in there, I can see it, glittering like New Moon's edge. I think it's making him ill somehow . . ."  
  
With a quick thrust, he ripped through muscle and bone. Blood stained his blade, and the other four Elves cried out in shocked alarm. Yet before any of them had the chance to reach and stop him, Skywise was wiping his knife in one hand, and holding in the other a small cone of metal with a hard, pointed edge, red with Elfin blood.  
  
"It's lighter than the Lodestone, smaller than an arrowhead . . ." he said, staring at the sliver with astonishment. "And yet it was lodged so deeply inside the bone I nearly couldn't pry it out. Timmorn's blood, Cutter! Who could've made such a terrible thing?"  
  
"Humans!" Treestump declared abruptly, clenching his fists. "Who else would come up with so deadly a weapon - and coated with poison, to boot?"  
  
"I don't smell any poison," the stargazer countered, shaking his head thoughtfully. He held out his find for the others to see. It was small, metallic, and shined innocently in the moonlight, only traces of dark red betraying its true nature. "I think the metal *is* the poison, even though I've never heard of such a thing before."  
  
"Death-magic!" Leetah whispered, clamping a hand over her mouth.  
  
Strongbow seemed puzzled. *(But the round-ears don't use magic. They're too stupid,) he returned their gazes with a confident one. (And I have never seen them work metal this way. It has to have been someone else...)  
  
"The Elves from the Metal Holt!" Skywise concluded excitedly.  
  
To his outmost amazement and surprise, Treestump, Strongbow and Cutter immediately grimaced. They exchanged stern looks, worried rather than interested, and their eyes gleamed dangerously. The chief, perhaps of instinct, placed one hand on New Moon's handle. It was the complete opposite of any reaction he expected from them, from the bold Strongbow, the wise Treestump and chief Cutter of the Wolfriders, called Kinseeker so many seasons ago.  
  
"If . . . Elves . . . really made this - this metalkiller," Cutter said slowly, stroking his chin, "they must be different than any tribe we've ever met. Maybe they don't know our ways - maybe they'll come here."  
  
His lifemate's eyes widened in alarm. "You don't mean - "  
  
He nodded gravely. "Look at Tyldak now, and he's hardly weaker than any Wolfrider. Whomever they may be, why would they not do the same to us? Can magic stop a metalkiller? Can strong leathers? Can a healer mend such wounds? We might be surprised. They're more dangerous than the humans have ever been - and merciful High Ones, they attacked another Elf!"  
  
Skywise opened his mouth intending to shout. The words gathered in his throat loud and angry. Abruptly, he caught sight of the Glider still sleeping between the roots, and all his rage instead exploded in a thundering send.  
  
*(What?? What is it you're saying? Have you all gone mad? Here's a chance at an adventure - a greater adventure than any of us had ever seen! Here's a puzzle crying out to be solved - and you *fear* it? You *fight* it? What dung filled all your heads? What happened to *our* Way - what happened to the quest?) Desperately he flung his gaze to meet Cutter's, lock-sending. *(Tam, my brother, I don't know you anymore!)  
  
It seemed to him then that he was to be scolded, or gently comforted till he broke and wept. He waited for neither option, instead turning and running deep into the woods, thinking all the while that his behavior was that of a capricious cub, but not truly caring, not until he was deep between the trees.  
  
Cutter looked at his three tribesmen, stunned and confused. Strongbow shrugged in reply, Leetah and Treestump seemed speechless. None of them had true answers.  
  
He lowered his eyes, sighing deeply inside. 'Fahr . . . must our ways constantly fork? You look to the stars, while I must guard this earth - this tribe!'  
  
Glancing back at the sleeping Tyldak, he frowned in anger, and in a shame of sorts. 'Curse you, Glider, for raising this storm and my curiosity both!'  
  
In the depth of the forest, away from the Holt, Skywise contemplated the night sky alone, and within the hour felt something take shape inside him - something new, and bold, and terrifying.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
It was a few days before the storm darkened the air in the New Holt yet again. Tyldak recovered from his long journey slowly enough to drive both Cutter and Skywise slightly mad. At most times he was either asleep or closely guarded by Leetah, who let none approach her charge. When one of the two got around to trying to get some answers out of him, he seemed reluctant to give any that didn't concern precisely the "metal holt". Of how he found the place or of what happened there, he would not say one word. Pressing the matter often led to a forceful, teary refusal to talk any further.  
  
"He's gone as mad as old Two-Edge," Cutter told Leetah one day, lying together in their den trying to make sense of the passing days. "I've despaired of asking him anything about what happened to him - he'd never tell me. He just starts . . . crying like a little cub."  
  
"Leave him be a while, beloved," the healer answered. "He suffered much. He'll tell us eventually, else why come here? What troubles me." she frowned darkly, "what troubles me is, where is Kahvi? As I've been told, they were infatuated with each other when leaving the Holt. Could something . . .?" and she spoke no more, as if frightened.  
  
Skywise bided his time returning to the matter. He avoided speaking with his chief, and slipped out of any conversation that turned to the Glider and his discovery. He toyed with the thing the tribe called "metalkiller", finding out it didn't stick to the Lodestone as most metals did, and that it indeed bore no poison - a far more troubling fact. He spent nights alone on the hilltop, trying to imagine what could a metal holt look like, what kind of creatures could live in it. He was charmed by the thought of tall, metallic Elves, shining like the moon with all the grace of a razor's edge, shaping cold iron as Redlance shaped branches and leaves.  
  
The turning point came on the fifth night, when he was as fed up with starry solitude as he thought he could never be. Aroree found him wandering the forest edges, and offered him his favored comfort. Surprisingly, she seemed unhurt when refused.  
  
"Not tonight," the stargazer said with a hint of sadness. "I'm sorry if - "  
  
"Fear not, little love," the beautiful former Glider replied. She smiled a kind smile, lighting up her every feature, and snatched him up into the cold night air. "I know how troubled you are. You and Cutter have not spoken in - how many days has it been?"  
  
"Five," he sighed deeply, heavily. "I - I don't understand, Aroree. He isn't like I remembered my soul-brother . . ."  
  
"He has seen much - as we all have," she spoke softly, her voice like a bell in the silent darkness. Her very presence seemed to have made everything better. "He fears the unseen, the unknown . . ."  
  
Skywise sobbed suddenly, a deep, racking sound. Hastily his lovemate landed, holding him tightly to her as they sat on the grass beneath infinite black. She stroked his hair and skin, giving him all the love she had to give, a love pure and unchallenged, unchanged by the passing turns. He cried quietly into the night, into her inviting embrace. "Is it always this way? Do you all fear it, Aroree? Will I fear it all one day?" he gasped, as if in pain. "I - I don't want to!"  
  
"Sshhhh . . ." she whispered, pressing him to her, protecting him, treasuring him. "Only us, my beloved, my Skywise, you are not like all of us. Not you. I love you - and I promise you."  
  
She took to the air again then and they flew a while until he relaxed, now breathing deeply, richly, the tears drying on his face. Under ivory moonlight they made love high above ground, and dawn found them still together, cuddled in Skywise's den against the morning cold, hands held beneath the furs.  
  
The silver-haired Wolfrider stared at the sunrise, the pain of the night seeming far away. After a while, he talked, slowly, quietly.  
  
"He and I are - were - brothers in all but blood . . . and he may think he no longer needs my council. But now more than ever he needs it, now at this very time."  
  
"You would talk him into the quest . . ." Aroree said.  
  
"Why not? He needs it - they all need it. They forgot what wondering *is*. Someone has to remind them. I won't have this tribe become like . . . like the Gliders . . . oh, beloved, I'm sorry . . ." his shoulders slumped and he shifted his gaze from the sun to the ground.  
  
She chuckled in reply. "Hearing you talk like this . . . I wonder if it was not Cutter Tyldak came here to find, but you."  
  
Skywise blinked, surprised. "What?"  
  
"He was much like you, many eights ago," she answered casually. "A misty- eyed dreamer all about stars and wonder and flight. He tried to make all of us remember those same things you seek, and would have succeeded, if it was not for Winnowill . . ."  
  
Without warning, Skywise leaped to his feet, grabbing for clothes. He dressed in a stumbling hurry, almost beaming with sudden thrill and hope. Aroree, startled, looked at him wide-eyed.  
  
"But there's no Winnowill among the Wolfriders," he said joyously. "I can make them see, Aroree! We will yet go on this quest! I can make them - he'll help me!"  
  
"Tyldak?" the surprised Elf asked, confused, but Skywise was already climbing out of the den, hopping down branches and sliding down the trunk, trembling with regained excitement. "But - he's not - not anymore - "  
  
"He's like me - we don't fear it!" the stargazer shot back a cheerful cry before disappearing into the bushes below.  
  
His lovemate looked after him, worry reflecting in her large, sad eyes, thoughts clashing inside her head like a storm. She nearly followed him, but stopped herself. No, she had no right. Neither her fear of his failure nor her fear of the quest must overcome here.  
  
"High Ones be with you, little love," she muttered. "Oh, but you know not how Winnowill broke Tyldak . . . how she gave him wings and took his dreams . . ."  
  
Skywise didn't hear the Glider-turned-Wolfrider as he ran to the Father Tree, all thoughts left his mind save that of the quest. The sudden hope for help - for understanding - was welcome as water in drought, he let it bloom, savoring it, not even thinking it might turn out to be false.  
  
He found Tyldak sitting outside the den shaped for him from the roots, alone and perfectly still, silently welcoming the dawn. Five days passed since his unfortunate journey, and that time proved the best remedy. Leetah refused to heal his broken wing claiming she wouldn't have him just flying away still weakened, and the strange leafy bandaging wrapping the wounded wing-arm against the pain made him look even more alien than before. In body, if in body alone, he seemed well enough.  
  
Thinking but a moment Skywise came and sat by him, and for several minutes, none of them spoke. They looked at the rising sun with reverence.  
  
Finally, the Glider talked, not looking at Skywise's direction. "More questions, Wolfrider?"  
  
"One," Skywise admitted.  
  
"Then ask and leave me be. I was wrong to come here. When your healer mends my wing I won't be staying long."  
  
"All right," entirely confident in a way that surprised him, the silver- haired Elf leaned back, "is it true that you were the Gliders' stargazer?"  
  
Tyldak winced. "What gave you that idea?"  
  
"Aroree told me."  
  
"Aroree is like a chattering bird. She says many pretty nonsense."  
  
"*Were* you?" Skywise insisted, catching the winged Elf's eyes.  
  
"The Gliders haven't had a stargazer in a long time . . ." with heavy sadness, he sighed. "But yes, if you must know, I was."  
  
They fell into silence again, then, that lasted for a long time as the sun climbed its daily course in the perfect blue sky, each weighting the other's words. Finally, it was Skywise who restarted the conversation, now turning to face the other Elf directly.  
  
"I don't understand you, Tyldak," he said simply. "I'm the Wolfriders' stargazer, and High Ones know I try to make this tribe take all their lazy behinds and go on this quest of yours. But it seems I'm doing it alone. Do you even want us to go? Are you afraid?"  
  
Their eyes locked. Tension gathered firm and clear in the morning air. The Wolfrider's gaze was forceful; challenging, a confident urge for action, an angry dare, a desperate plea for help.  
  
His opponent stood his ground a small while, but soon, as both knew would happen, he broke.  
  
"It's . . . because of Kahvi," Tyldak managed, shrinking away from the defying glare.  
  
Skywise perked. It was the first time the name of the Go-Backs' chieftess was mentioned.  
  
"Kahvi?" Despite himself, despite the Glider's silent, begging protest, he asked. "What - ?"  
  
"*No!* I will not talk of her - not with any of you!" the sheer intensity of the cry rattled the stargazer, who stumbled backward, shocked. Breathing hard, Tyldak backed away from the other Elf, into the shadow of the Father Tree. His suddenly moist eyes snapped fire at the question. An armor stronger than either metal or magic seemed to enclose the ravaged winged Elf at the very mention of his lovemate's name, an armor that has not - and yes, may never be breached. "Leave me alone!"  
  
Gaping, horrified at the other's pain and rage, Skywise did anything but that. Instead, as if by instinct, he leaped forward, grabbing for the healthy wing-arm, and spoke with firm calm he did not know where he found. "No, curse your empty head! I won't let this go on! Whatever this secret is, it's hurting you, don't you see? You have a metalkiller in your soul, you have to get it out!"  
  
Tyldak froze. For a moment, everything was quiet, still.  
  
Then he spoke, in a low, brooding voice. "What cares you about my soul, Wolfrider?"  
  
"You - only you - can help me teach this tribe wonder," Skywise answered bravely.  
  
Another pause - long, frightful, stretching into infinity.  
  
Then the Glider nodded slowly. He said no more.  
  
He looked down, closed his eyes -  
  
And sent.  
  
Skywise screamed.  
  
Halfway across the Holt's ground, Elves lifted their heads and their eyes widened. Dropping all they held, they speeded to the Father Tree. There, they found the stargazer on his knees, holding his head, whimpering.  
  
1.1.1.1 A small hand slipping from his, terrified eyes piercing him to the heart as she fell . . .  
  
*(Fahr!!) sending frantically, Cutter dropped down next to his trembling, agonized friend. No comforting answer. His head snapped backward and his eyes looked daggers as Tyldak. "What have you done to him??"  
  
"Told him what he asked for," the winged Elf replied, shivering himself. "No more, no less."  
  
Skywise was dimly aware of the chaos as his fellow Wolfriders reached to touch, to comfort him. Nothing penetrated the high, shadowing walls of the terror that landed on him from a crushed spirit and tormented mind. He fought it, defied it as he would a nightmare, but hindering his every step, every thought was the knowledge that he was witnessing reality.  
  
She loved to fly, loved so much to fly, and as high as possible, touch lips with the danger . . .  
  
Fervently he clawed his way back to reality, back to the Now he could no longer cherish. He clang to his soul-brother's calls, the calls of the tribe, Timmain's caressing, sent comfort, a shield against the darkness. He was seeing all that happened, all that was, and with it, feeling all the pain.  
  
She loved to fly, and the new place, and the thunder and fire and smoke, and suddenly this terrible feeling of *snap* and he tried to hold on to her he tried to keep her with him but it hurt it hurt so much and he couldn't stay up and couldn't stay awake and blood and pain and she was screaming screaming and he tried to hold her he tried he tried he tried.  
  
And he couldn't.  
  
*(Fahr! Soul-brother!)  
  
*(Tam . . .! It hurts . . .!)  
  
*(Don't let go! I will save you this time!)  
  
The darkness melting like clouds in the sunlight.  
  
Skywise looked up, sat back, staring.  
  
"Ah . . . huh . . . I . . . still here . . ."  
  
He lifted his gaze, found Cutter's, and every inch of his body relaxed.  
  
"What happened?" the chief asked him sternly, his voice strained with audile concern.  
  
"He showed me," Skywise breathed.  
  
A few long minutes passed before he could tell them the story in its entire, and the tribe waited patiently until he collected all his wits. Tyldak retreated into his den and avoided all questions as he sat there, hidden and quietly whimpering, and most of all, perhaps, terrified by the unexpected relief that came simply from sharing his pain with another.  
  
Moments stretched away and the tribe gathered round. The stargazer told his tale simply, without enthusiasm, without emotion. The images were vivid in his mind, the sounds, the smells, and the two hardest things, the touch (so warm, so soft . . .) and the feelings.  
  
He told, quiet and detached, of how the two lovemates left the Go-Backs tribe behind them to chart realms unknown. How they traveled far down Sun- Goes-Down, beyond Rayek's breach, beyond the ruins of Blue Mountain. He told of a long journey, and of the destination.  
  
He told of the metal Holt, and all eyes were on him, locked and glazing.  
  
He could see it glowing in his mind.  
  
Then he closed his eyes tightly, and told of the terrible thundering noise and the hard, painful impact. He could feel it. Unconsciously touching his arm, he told in harrowing details of how the proud winged Elf was hit, wounded and forced down. How he tried desperately to hold onto his lovemate, and how she slipped away, falling down, screaming as he helplessly watched until blessed darkness claimed him.  
  
"It's real," Skywise finished, suddenly dizzy. "It happened, he saw it. I saw it."  
  
He passed a long, piercing gaze on the faces of the Wolfriders. They showed shock, clear and present, and rage, and pain. Leetah, Dewshine and Redlance had tears in their haunted eyes. He felt a sense of cleansing, a weight dropping from his heart. The pain now belonged to them all.  
  
Cutter broke the long silence with all the determination it was the chief's duty to muster. "I call council today, after sunset. Back to your tasks now, all of you," as the tribe began to scatter, talking quietly among themselves, he turned to Skywise. "I have to talk with you."  
  
The stargazer nodded. "Say, on the hill? I'll come in a moment."  
  
A quick confirmation, and the two friends parted, Cutter joining Leetah on the way back to their den. Skywise's gaze rested on them for a short while, then his back bent and he stared at the ground a full minute before turning back to the roots.  
  
"Tyldak?" he called.  
  
"Asleep. Go away," came the hasty reply.  
  
"I . . . told them."  
  
A long pause. "You did, didn't you?" the tone seemed to change, but unable to see inside the dark den, Skywise couldn't tell what the Glider truly felt. "Very well, what's done is done. I just hope you will not let it keep you awake at nights . . . or whenever it is you mad Elves sleep." Skywise couldn't help but chuckle - yes, there was a hidden note of amused irony in the comment. It was not merely his imagination. "I . . . I feel better, Wolfrider. By far. I must thank you."  
  
"It's what friends are all about," Skywise whispered, but solely to himself, and no answer followed.  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
"What for all the High Ones' sake did you think you were doing??"  
  
Skywise sighed at the shouted words. After eight eight eights of turns, Cutter still haven't learned to keep his voice down.  
  
"He was in pain, Tam. I had to help."  
  
"But to tell the tribe! I think maybe you finally lost your last footing in this world!"  
  
Keeping his calm, the silver-haired Elf waited a moment, staring upward, wishing it was night. "Don't you think you're being too serious? It didn't hurt the tribe to know the Sun Folk exist, or."  
  
"This is different," Cutter huffed. "A metal Holt. . . the metalkillers . . . it's all so new, dangerous . . ."  
  
"So it's new," leaning back, Skywise shrugged casually, inside knowing he was struggling to keep the conversation's tone low. "We don't know if it's dangerous."  
  
"If eight eight eights of turns taught me sometimes, it's that new is dangerous."  
  
"Timmorn's blood, you sound like a Glider . . .!"  
  
"Tell that to One-Eye, Vaya, Dewshine . . ." the chief didn't stop there. With horrible determination he counted all the dead, all those who lost dear ones, who lost their peace of mind, their stable, good life because of the Wolfriders' wild quests. Skywise listened for only a few moments and a gripping feeling of nausea engulfed him. By the tenth name he began trembling, and when Cutter mentioned his family's kidnapping, he sprang to his feet in careless, blind rage.  
  
"What would you have me do??" he erupted, "Let you hide them in the trees forever, forgetting all they - all we ever were? They needed to know the truth, remember that there are other things out there, that life's not about howling and joining and Dreamberries! I made them *think*, Tam, I made them *curious*! I'm proud of what I did!"  
  
"Still with your dreams," Cutter answered in a sort of calm that unnerved Skywise far more than any shouting. "Can't you understand that we no longer share them?"  
  
Skywise stumbled back at that, gasping, as if struck.  
  
"You don't mean that," he said hollowly.  
  
Then the chief's rage finally flared, forcing its way out in a low, rumbling growl. The two soul-brothers looked each other deep in the eyes, none standing down. The building anger between them was racing toward explosion.  
  
"If I was Bearclaw - " Cutter started, his voice dangerous.  
  
"You'd hit me?" his friend quietly replied.  
  
A moment later they were embracing, tears on their faces.  
  
*(Fahr, I . . . I don't know what I was thinking . . .) Cutter's sending was deeply racked, almost fearful at what he was one wounding word away from doing. Skywise smiled faintly, sending his complete forgiveness.  
  
Nothing would come between them.  
  
They went down from the hill together, silent and brooding, but grateful for the peaceful end of the fight. The silence wasn't broken until a short distance from the Holt.  
  
"The truth is I've been quite the dung-head, talking like I did, but I keep thinking . . ." Skywise sighed. "I don't know what I keep thinking. It's been so long and I thought I'd used to - oh, but what am I saying? Peace and quiet were never my idea of a life."  
  
Cutter places a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry you feel like that . . . but wait a while, you'll see peace and quiet are a blessing. Maybe not for many more turns, but someday . . . you can wait, can't you?"  
  
Somberly, Skywise nodded and they made the rest of the way to the Holt without adding another word. All the short way, he could feel the bitterness rise in him.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
Tyleet deeply regretted that she didn't hear Skywise's tale firsthand. She was on the other side of the Holt, and did not hear the scream that alerted most of the Wolfriders, thus missing the actual unfolding of the tale. Venka shared it with her in picturesque sending, but it was not quite the same to the excitable, curious little Elf. She couldn't refrain from thinking that some essential detail was dropped in the process, that she was missing out on something. She hated feeling left out.  
  
To Tyleet, there was always something more. She had never been content with the usual facts, the usual ways, ever seeking out the deeper elements, working her way with and around them with simple, bright elegance. In that sense, she felt kin to Skywise, and upon seeing what occurred through Venka's mind, immediately knew how he felt.  
  
"He'd give his wolf's soul to go on this quest - if he still had one," she told her dark friend that same day. They both sat by the stream, bare feet dangling inside the water and Preservers fluttering all around. "I've never been on a quest . . ."  
  
Venka nodded solemnly. "Me neither, even when the Palace returns, it was not . . . for real, was it?" Tyleet shook her head, red-gold curls ruffling, and the sorceress continued, a troubled expression forming on her face. "The thought of leaving the Holt is . . ."  
  
"Disturbing?"  
  
"Exactly!"  
  
"I don't know," on pure whim, the redheaded Elf slipped out of her clothes and into the water. In seconds, the coolness of the stream gave her thoughts added clarity. Venka sat patiently on the bank. "Mother and father went on many quests, many places. Sorrow's End, Blue Mountain, the Frozen Mountains, and most of them turned out for the best. The twins, Mender and Windkin were born because of those quests, I was born because of the Palace . . ." deep in thoughts now, she lay back until the water covered her head. She leaped out, gasping, splashing over every single Preserver with accuracy that couldn't have been completely due to chance. "I'd like to go look for other places . . ."  
  
"My mother is - was also a traveler," Venka noted dryly. She seemed unshaken by the changing of tense, looking perfectly calm and elegant as she sat cross-legged on the bank's soft grass. But Tyleet's eyes shot wide and she virtually sprang from the water. Leaning two hands on the muddy ground, she looked up at her friend with sudden shock.  
  
"Oh, High Ones! I didn't realize . . ."  
  
The dark-skinned Elf didn't move, but abruptly blinked, stunned by the thought that she had not really realized either. 'Mother . . . is dead. I can't truly believe that.!'  
  
Tyleet waited patiently until her childhood friend spoke at last, in a slow, extremely measured voice. "She was a Go-Back. She would have wanted it . . . eventually . . ."  
  
"You didn't even get to say goodbye . . ." the younger girl thought aloud, her gaze unfocused. Venka felt herself stiffen. No . . . she didn't.  
  
But what did it matter, after eight eight eights of turns? What had she and her mother in common except their blood? She did not even fulfill Kahvi's will that she take her revenge on her father, Rayek. She was a Wolfrider, had been raised and lived as one, had nothing to do with the Go-Backs, their dances, their quick, violent lives. She was the magic they refused to trust. She was the calm head her mother never gained. They had nothing in common, nothing at all.  
  
'She left me. I was almost a cub, and she left me, wandered off with that . . . bird-Elf. The last words she spoke to me were of vengeance. And then she walked away. She left me.'  
  
"I said goodbye a long time ago," she heard herself deadpan.  
  
Tyleet dove deep into water and was gone under the waves.  
  
Venka sat idly waiting for her return. She was no longer thinking, no longer feeling. The quest seemed a distant, strange idea.  
  
One Preserver - she could never tell them apart - abandoned the colorful group and fluttered down to settle on her shoulder. Digging into her hair, it caught sight of her face and, in a tiny, low voice softly asked. "Prettydark Highthing all sad-sad?"  
  
'No,' Venka thought, though she said nothing, 'I'm not sad at all.'  
  
Tyleet knew, in a detached way, that she was very upset as she swam against the flow, up the course of the stream. She knew she left Venka alone on the bank without even warning her that she was leaving, but that didn't seem to matter. She knew someone would go looking for her if she swam too far and too long, but left that to the coming time and concentrated on the immediate now. She swam forcefully, pushing her way through.  
  
She grew angrier and angrier each time she replayed Venka's words in her mind. Said goodbye a long time ago, is what her mother would have wanted. 'I don't care, I don't think I should care, end of howl.' She felt the abrupt need to scream.  
  
'Why am I so angry?' Tyleet thought, stretching on a rock sticking from the stream, warmed all morning by the sun. 'Kahvi left Venka when she was still a little cub. I should understand how bad it feels! I've been a mother . . .'  
  
"Oh - Patience!"  
  
Grinning warmly and jumping to the ground at the sight of the wolf emerging from the bushes, its tail swish-swashing about, Tyleet recalled with some embarrassment that she left her clothes with Venka down the stream. Ah well, that meant an interesting ride back. But that also meant coming face to face with the Elfin sorceress - far, far too soon.  
  
Feeling haunted, she climbed on Patience's back, thinking to herself that if anyone touched her mother, she'd pursue them - be they Elf, Troll or even human - to the end of the world. Riding down the river, she found her clothes in a cluster of bushes and quickly threw them on. She considered riding away without confronting her friend, but then froze.  
  
Voices could be heard from afar. Extremely keen Elfin ears caught and recognized the silky tones of Venka's speech from thirty feet away, and then two more voices, which, hushed as they may be, rang with the clearness and firmness of ice.  
  
'Skot? Krim?' Tyleet blinked, her curiosity perked. She patted Patience's back, and the two settled on the ground, listening, so quiet and still they made no sound that could betray them.  
  
"Cutter would have your heads for this," came Venka's smooth voice.  
  
"We Go-Backs have little use for our heads," was Krim's answer. Skot gave an audible snicker. "With the exception of you, of course."  
  
"I'm no Go-Back."  
  
"Oh, who are you fooling, chieftess-cub?" Skot said loudly. "You're Kahvi's blood. It's all over you, no matter what you pretend to be. You owe us her dance . . ."  
  
"You owe us much more," his lifemate intervened. "Blood for blood, is what you owe us. Vengeance."  
  
Tyleet could hear the dry leafs shuffled as Venka moved back. "No. There will be no blood. This tribe has no need of an insane quest for vengeance. I wouldn't hear of it."  
  
Skot spat a curse. Krim jumped and grabbed the dark Elf's arm, the sudden movement behind the bushes startling the little onlooker. "Just who do you think you are, girl? You've already defied your mother once not ridding this world of the mate of the Black Snake. Pay her in her death what you wouldn't pay in her life!"  
  
Watching, fascinated, thoughts crashing like waves in her head, Tyleet failed to notice when the bored Patience stuck her nose in the wrong place. The wolf sneezed loudly enough to scatter the Preservers, and the three arguing Elves' heads immediately snapped in the noise's direction.  
  
"Someone's here . . .!" Skot whispered.  
  
He looked at Krim wide-eyed. She was frozen, her eyes moving nervously from side to side. Venka rose and pushed some cluttered bushes away. Tyleet was ready to claim she had only gotten there a moment ago, but not for her friend's reaction.  
  
"Tyleet?!" never before had she heard such panicked alarm in Venka's voice. She leaped to her feet, shocked and frightened, not even thinking of scolding Patience. The sorceress wasn't angry, nor did she seem surprised - just horrified, unable to say another word.  
  
"I . . . I didn't hear a-anything . . ." the redheaded Elf tried weakly.  
  
*(There's only truth in *sending*,) Skot sent angrily.  
  
She bowed her head.  
  
"This whole discussion has just become pointless," Venka said, sounding incredibly tired suddenly. "Tyleet, you heard what we talked of? Send."  
  
Gritting her teeth, she obeyed. *(I did.)  
  
"And what do you have to say about it?"  
  
This question surprised her. She wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready to have her say in the matter, didn't think the chance would occur. Now that it did, she was aware of how strangely eager she sounded, but made no attempt to hide it. "I say we go. I say we take ourselves and find Skywise's metal Holt. Not for vengeance or for Kahvi's blood or because of anything like that . . ." she flashed a brief, glowing smile at them, "but because I'm driven mad with curiosity. And truthfully, aren't you?"  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
The sun began to arch down on its daily course. Cutter watched it from a thick branch high on the Father Tree. Soon he will call his tribe for council. He was nervous.  
  
Skywise would have his say in this council - he knew that clear as day. And Skywise was a good speaker, who could make opinions swerve in his direction with ease if putting his mind to it. Dangerous as his idea may be, his innate charm made everything seem possible.  
  
It was those possibilities that made Cutter fear the council's outcome. He once spoke for similar causes, pursued similar dreams, but the seasons turned many times since then, danger became a consideration - fear a driving force.  
  
'He makes me feel so old,' the chief thought tiredly, 'he makes me feel so cowardly. The way he'd rush into things it seemed he talked me out of rushing into only yesterday . . . what happened to me that I think these kind of thoughts? What have I lost between the seasons?'  
  
He knew his father before him lived three times as many turns as he had, and still had not grown indifferent. Bearclaw knew how to keep his love of life - not so much how to keep lives. He hunted the bear, he played tricks on the humans, he ran circles around danger staring it in the eyes, and every once in a while, he got close enough for a painful brush.  
  
'One-Eye, Crescent, Shale, Eyes-High . . .'  
  
No.  
  
'I won't lose them - not one of them! Not to anything, anything!' There was anger in the thought. He was afraid of the adventure he used to crave. He feared for his tribe, for his family . . . he had so much to lose, so much too dear to let go of.  
  
The quest - the quest that once was his lifeblood - was it a worthy price? Never travel again, never reach out, reach far, never seek the unknown, the strange, the different. Never take his tribe on mad journeys chasing dreams long ago forgotten. It wasn't the Way, he told himself, it went against the Now of Wolf Thought - but what 'now'? There was no 'Now' to him.  
  
'If I were alone, Fahr, I'd go with you. If I knew my family, the tribe, all of them were safe, if I could bear to be away from them, I'd go on your quest and damned be the fear. But High Ones, I can't, not again, not again . . .'  
  
And taking the whole tribe would be an unpardonable crime.  
  
They could survive without dreams, not so without food, water, shelter . . . each other . . .  
  
He'll have to speak in council of all these things today. Some will be on his side. Strongbow, Treestump, Moonshade . . . the elder, the sensible. But Tyleet, Pike, Zhantee, his own cubs, what would they say? Whom would they trust? It was up to him to convince them, make them see and understand.  
  
Make them see and understand the things he never did?  
  
A wave of pain crashed over him suddenly.  
  
Flicking away his gaze from the descending sun, Cutter made his quick way to the ground. Leetah and Skywise waited there, looking up at him until he was before them. He avoided the stargazer's eyes as best he could, already knowing what lay in their blue depths.  
  
He kept an air of firmness as he walked to them, head held high. "You two wanted something?"  
  
They exchanged a quick glance, than Leetah spoke. "I thought you may want to know - Tyldak asked we end his matter today. In a moment, I'll heal him and he'll be leaving the Holt tonight. Perhaps you'd want to call off the council . . ."  
  
"No," every one of his instincts told him to jump at the opportunity. It will pass like a storm that comes and goes, like a harsh strike of wind, leaving nothing but calm behind. But he didn't have to look at Skywise to know better. "Ask him to stay one night more. He may be needed . . . to guide us."  
  
He heard a little gasp of thrill from the direction he was trying not to look.  
  
"If the tribe agrees," he added uncomfortably.  
  
The three of them encircled the thick Father Tree, stopping near Tyldak's den. The winged Elf sat among the roots, silently acknowledging their arrival. He had torn off the leafs that bandaged his wing-arm and was staring at the wound with macabre fascination.  
  
"You are letting me go, healer?" he said in a strange, faintly humorous manner.  
  
Leetah stood unfazed. "Now that you've regained enough strength . . ."  
  
He shrugged. She settled down on the grass, taking the broken limb in her gentle hands, her touch like silk and honey. Magic began to gather in the air, glowed bright and shiny, pulsing in the merry hum of life that was the essence of healing. Leetah focused only slightly at first, then frowned heavily, then something went clearly, terribly wrong.  
  
The magic light crumbled, as if consumed from within, the slight warmth subsided with frightening abruptness. The beautiful healer was sweating, shaking with unexplained effort, her fingers tightened and Tyldak cried out in shocked agony. She battled whatever happened to her magic a few moments later, then let go, falling back into the terrified Cutter's arms.  
  
"Lifemate! Leetah! Answer me, please!" he begged, pressed her trembling body to his.  
  
"I . . . I'm all right . . . I'm all right . . ." she breathed and he virtually collapsed with relief. But relief did not come for Leetah yet. She shakily stood up and turned back.  
  
An expression of complete, indescribable dread lined Tyldak's face as he found his wing unhealed.  
  
"But you said . . ." he choked out.  
  
She seemed just as stunned for a few moments, then, without warning, fell to her knees, sobbing and raging.  
  
"It's her!" she cried. "Again, her! I should have guessed. That . . . forever cursed . . . snake! Oh, I'm sorry, Tyldak, I'm sorry . . .!"  
  
Cutter and Skywise quickly settled by her, the former reaching out to touch, to comfort. "What?"  
  
"It's Winnowill - Winnowill and her dark magic . . ." the healer replied, refusing all attempts to ease her pain and anger. "The monster . . . had most likely wanted to assure he could never fly where she did not want him flying . . . can't be healed! Not by me - not by any save the Black Snake herself!"  
  
The air around them seemed to have gone deathly cold at that, the moment freezing, stopping like the stream in the worst white-colds. Around the treetops rustled, birds chirped and the wind blew, and the image seemed remote against the blue sky. The peace of the day was torn asunder by Leetah's quieting sobs and Tyldak's heavy breath.  
  
Cutter held his trembling lifemate to him, his loving support unwavering, unending. Fail as she had, he showed no care. Skywise, for his part, leaned over to examine the broken bone more closely. Tyldak didn't move - didn't even wince away in pain. He stared in quiet, terrible disbelief.  
  
"It's bad," the Wolfrider said darkly. "A hunter's break. Those keep a bird grounded even months after healing. I don't think - "  
  
"Don't say it!" Leetah whispered urgently.  
  
He stopped in his track, looking, at her, uncertain. The stunned Glider gave him a haunted gaze.  
  
"N-no, it - it can't be. I've f-flown all the way here . . ." he said desperately.  
  
Cutter and Skywise exchanged horrified glances. "Like this?!"  
  
"It . . . didn't hurt as much, before . . ."  
  
The stargazer abruptly buried his face in his hands. "Merciful High Ones! Weren't you thinking? You've made it so much worse!"  
  
"I had to get here . . .!" panic was rising in Tyldak's voice, sheer, unbelieving, deep panic. 'Does that mean . . . it must mean . . . it can't mean that . . . will I never . . .'  
  
"Couldn't you wait - !" Skywise would've continued, could've continued a while more. Anger tore at him, not anger at the careless Glider, not even at the mysterious entities who hurt him so, but utter, blind, helpless rage at the world that allowed such things to happen. It was the world he wanted to shout at, to demand justice from. He stopped with strange suddenness at mid-sentence, feeling Leetah's gentle touch on his shoulder.  
  
*(I think he couldn't,) she sent to him alone.  
  
Taking in a sharp breath, he stepped backward, swallowed his anger, turned around not to let the others see the look in his eyes.  
  
They've stood helpless, considering, for long minutes.  
  
"If none of you minds . . ." Tyldak said finally, his voice careful, forcefully held back, shaking slightly. "I think . . . I would like to be alone a while now."  
  
He dragged himself into the shadow of the den. The three Wolfriders remained where they stood in dark silence. Cutter glanced up.  
  
"The sun is almost down."  
  
He turned to his lifemate and soul-brother. Leetah was much calmer than before, even though in her eyes was still a look of fear and hidden pain. Skywise was as bitter and quietly angry as he has ever seen him, and didn't meet his eyes. He sat on the ground and fiddled with the grass aimlessly.  
  
Tearing his gaze away, he looked to the healer, as if for guidance. She returned his pleading gaze with one of understanding - complete, unchallenging understanding, free of judgement, free of demand.  
  
"Call council," she softly said.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
They gathered round the Father Tree as they have done for millennia, the entire tribe, hunters and magic-wielders, elders and cubs, gathered silently, summoned by an ancient call. They came to hear destinies decided, perhaps take part in the decision, to settle things with words before rushing into action. Such was the council's purpose, had been since the dawn of time. No chief would act without the council's approval, no quest will be undertaken, no important deeds be done. The fate of the tribe lay in the balance, and it was the tribe and the tribe alone that will decide it.  
  
Cutter studied his Wolfriders' faces as one by one they settles around, among and upon the huge roots, shaped especially for this end. Will they hear him? Will they agree? Will he be trusted - or perhaps disobeyed - or perhaps challenged? No clue in the wondering eyes.  
  
He saw Skywise take his place opposite of him in the circle. They no longer avoided each other's gazes, the distance between them colder, realer than ever.  
  
The rest of the tribe each took their places in easy, chatter-filled calm. He felt a sharp pant of envy. What had they to decide of tomorrow? They lived, and always may live, in the true Now, from day to day without thinking of another day. No weight was on their shoulders. Their mistakes, even the direst, were their own as will be their deaths, while he could afford no mistake.  
  
Responsibility darkening the air all around him, he looked around and his heart went out to them. There precious careless, simple lives . . . he'd let no one disturb them. Let them be kept in ignorance if that is what was needed! Let them stay in one place, living one routine! They may not achieve the great, the hallowed, the extraordinary - but ah, they'll be happy, happy as he could no longer remember being.  
  
The tribe gathered for council, he waited.  
  
He waited, and looked at them, and hated Skywise, and hated himself.  
  
The circle of waiting, whispering Elves seemed to Skywise as if it were about to close down on him, crush him violently and painfully. Still it expanded as more and more of them arrived. With each new arrival he felt a little cold shiver run down his spine, knowing one more heart and mind were there to judge him - everything he was, everything he lived for, everything he thought made life worth living.  
  
It no longer concerned the quest - he has the stars' own time to roam this world and see all that was to be seen. It concerned him; it was the stargazer's trial. Will he prevail? And if he will not, what can he do? If he would be rejected tonight, he would never again belong among them.  
  
'Hear me', he silently called to the tribesmen, 'trust me. The stars I offer you - the stars!'  
  
He glanced upward. He heart the stars' call loud and clear. Did they, too?  
  
'Still with your dreams. can't you understand that we no longer share them?'  
  
He shuddered remembering what Cutter said. The words tore a bleeding hole in his heart.  
  
'Tam.' he began silently, then stopped cold.  
  
No words left, no words.  
  
Everything will be said and sealed tonight.  
  
'My voice betrays me,' Cutter thought as he rose to speak. His words seemed to escape him, lacking the controlled confidence he mastered over eight eights of eights. With time, his tone took on a commanding air. He learned how words can shape wills, hopes and desires, the language of authority. But now, before a tribe united for the first time in eons, rising to speak against his dearest soul's-friend, everything he learned seemed to disappear like dew in the unforgiving sunlight, leaving him empty, vulnerable. He knew his voice was shaking from the moment he began.  
  
"We're facing a hard decision, I'm sure you all know," he said, feeling their curious, probing eyes on him. "I know it's long since we've been on a quest, and maybe it burns in your blood as it does in mine - and this may surprise you, but as chief, I have to remind you of the dangers. We have a good Holt here, and with the humans so close by, can we really risk leaving it deserted for a while? And we have cubs with us. I wouldn't have anyone snatched away again. And last time we've been on a quest, well." his voice grew stronger and more stable with every word, every carefully considered notion. But their eyes gave him no hint of the struggle they were all struggling deep within. He went on. "Does anyone even know what we're going to face? Friends, enemies, nobody at all. High Ones, perhaps another Winnowill! You've all seen the thing we had to dig out of Tyldak's wing. That wound can't be healed, it turns out. Leetah claims it's because of the Black Snake's magic, but who knows? Yes, I'd give the Chief's Lock to go on that quest, but it's not a risk I'm going to make - or to ask any of you to take."  
  
Silence, like a wet fur on a fire . . . Cutter settled down next to his lifemate, stunned by his own words.  
  
Another long, strange beat. The Elves moved uncomfortably. Skywise felt the pressure gathering like storm clouds in the air. 'All eyes on me.'  
  
He didn't think about leaving the Holt to the humans. He didn't consider the cubs. He didn't think the chief would tell them of Tyldak's misfortune. He didn't think they might be finding an enemy.  
  
He didn't think. He felt something freeze in his innards.  
  
He must speak before the council. He must make them see what he sees. Him, who was a mere cub, a nobody with even his wolf blood gone, to speak before the council, to show the tribe what he failed to make his own soul-brother see.  
  
'Was I wrong?' Maybe he was. Maybe best to give it all up. Maybe he'd bow his head and stay silent as one of his stature ought to do. He could take the burning defeat if they did not refuse claims he voiced, if it wasn't him they rejected but the quest. He could live until enough turns have passed to grant him back his self-assurance and their respect. He could wait.  
  
'You can wait, can't you?'  
  
Gasping quietly, he looked up and caught Tyleet's eyes. The fair redhead winked, smiling a little enigmatic smile.  
  
His heart leaped to his throat, and he rose to speak.  
  
"If anyone told you this would be easy, rip him to shreds," he began slowly. "It's never been easy and it'll never be. And puckernuts, we've never done it because it was easy. Every thing worth fighting for is hard. *That's* why we do it. That's why we didn't stay in the Sun Village or in the Forbidden Grove or, for all the High Ones' sake, in Blue Mountain. Because every time there was something worth fighting for. Every time it was hard, I can assure you, or you think I don't remember broken arms and stone cages? It's what we live for, all of us, for what's hard and worth it." Abruptly his back straightened, he looked each and every one of them in the eyes. "And I'll tell you this, if anything was ever worth it, it's this quest. When have you last gone out to face the unknown? I beg of you, don't let this spark die!"  
  
He sat down, and the trial began.  
  
They looked at each other a few moments, as if unaware of the greater battle fought here in this arena between the towering roots. Redlance spoke first.  
  
"I say we go and see what we can find along the way. I can't say I'm thrilled about getting a metalkiller in me, but truly, since when have we been concerned about the 'might-be's? It's not the Way, and I won't walk it."  
  
"You're forgetting," Clearbrook pointed out calmly, holding out her palms. "The Way wasn't a lot of things before Cutter's time. This is what it means to learn from past mistakes."  
  
"As if we ever do that anyway!" Pike declared with a hint of snappy resentment.  
  
*(I did,) Strongbow's sending had his old, unwavering determination. He looked at his chief and his mighty fists clenched. (I say leave this foolishness. The tribe follows its chief.)  
  
"Blindly?" Nightfall teased. To the surprise of all, Moonshade nodded.  
  
"We have little time to think this through, but I do believe we can always turn back, where's the harm in trying?"  
  
"Tell that to my lifemate," Clearbrook replied quietly.  
  
"Perhaps she would, yet!" Treestump chimed in, clearly angered. "I myself can't believe you're even considering the idea. Haven't we been through enough? Maybe - we're not meant to have seen it all. Maybe all the happened with the Palace is a punishment, for all we've done wrong . . ."  
  
Skywise jumped to his feet. "It's not wrong!" he cried. "It's perfectly just. An Elf should look beyond the tip of his nose. Where would we have been if we hadn't?"  
  
It was Scouter who answered him - a wounding surprise. There was no emotion in the other Elf's voice, no admonition, no judgement. Just the calm, low words, worse than any scream. "Back in the Sun Village - Safe."  
  
Half a dozen voices rose in quiet, fearful agreement. ". . . were safe, and then this whole quest idea comes and . . ." "A punishment, maybe we weren't meant to find the Palace at all . . ." "Madness, chasing metal Elves and the stars in the sky . . ." " . . . should take no part in this, I mean . . ." "High Ones! Another Winnowill!" " . . . and let the humans have the Holt? Like we'd ever . . ." "Cutter's right, Cutter must be right . . ."  
  
The stargazer staggered. He fell to a sitting position, pressing his knees to his chest.  
  
"Can't you all see . . .?" He whispered. "You're dying in your dens like the Gliders . . . drying up . . . burning out . . ."  
  
"It's madness you're trying to drag us into," Cutter said quietly, his voice devoid of life and meaning.  
  
Skywise looked slightly up, felt the numbness all over his body. "Fine, I'll go alone."  
  
"Alone? You mustn't!" Dewshine jumped.  
  
"Tyldak will come with me. He has nothing here."  
  
Treestump gave a quick snort. "A crippled Glider and a stargazer without even his wolf's blood - you'll both be dead within a day."  
  
"It will be a quick death, at least," he mumbled, but for none to hear. He was aware of little more than the blood's pump in his ears, the faint scent of flowers carried on the wind from places far away. Heavy gray clouds covered the sky. The stars' light was no longer upon him.  
  
Vaguely, he heard Cutter's voice ask. "What says you all?", a few more sentences, a few more lines in his final verdict. General agreement, general acceptance, nothing more said or done. It all happened so quickly . . . a blink, and it was sealed, it was over, and he lost.  
  
He rose slowly, his limbs seemingly made of stone. He paid no attention to the scoffs, the whispered, even denied the kind, pitying gazes. He brushed aside Leetah, Nightfall, Redlance, stepped out of the circle, away from the Father Tree. His eyes remained locked on the ground.  
  
It was done, it was over, he lost, and he had the stars' own time to ponder it.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
Dewshine was of the quieter Wolfriders - small, gentle and sweet. It went against her nature to perform great fits of courageous disobedience. She was as tough and cunning as any of her tribe, but not reckless or wild. When she pulled Scouter aside after council, it came as much as a surprise to her as it did to him. She certainly didn't mean what she was going to say and do, and the repercussions can wait, hopefully well behind the next turn of her slippery, wolf-like trail of thoughts.  
  
Though he seemed confused, her lovemate followed her without complaint or question. That was one of the things she loved so much about him - his enduring faith in her. In the hardest time, her loyal, brave Scouter will be by her side. Even in times as hard as this.  
  
They've gone quite a distance away from the Holt and toward the edge of the forest. He walked after her in silence, only once asking where they were headed. She leaned a slim finger against her lips and led him into a patch of thorny bushes. Beneath them was a small borrow, once used by a wolf not of the pack. It was concealed and the plants above blocked smell and sound. Thankfully, Scouter immediately understood the need for stealth, and didn't question it, even not knowing its purpose.  
  
"There - it's all right here!" Dewshine finally whispered, settling down. He obediently did the same.  
  
"Why all this?" He asked, keeping his voice low as she peeked about to see if they weren't being followed.  
  
"Do you trust me?"  
  
Scouter stood offended. "With my life, what kind of a question is - "  
  
"I'm going with Skywise," she cut him off with heartbreaking honestly.  
  
That caught him off guard. For a moment, he could only stare at her with wide brown eyes.  
  
"Are you mad?" He breathed finally. "The entire tribe decided. We're taking no part in this. He can go anywhere he wants, but we can't follow."  
  
"I'm not asking you, beloved. I'm telling you."  
  
Shocked by her direct approach, her confident, simple words, he blinked several times before answering, feeling his control beginning to waver. "High Ones, why? If he and Tyldak want to get themselves killed, let them, but - "  
  
"That's just it - I can't let Tyldak throw his life away like this. Wolfrider or no Wolfrider, we're still Recognized . . ."  
  
"In body, I'd say so, and Windkin would agree. But in soul?" he was losing her, he knew it. He was growing desperate. Dewshine's Recognition was not a pleasant one. Stirring memories of it would anger her, perhaps turn her against him. But it may also show her, remind her of the true meaning of When Soul Meets Soul.  
  
"It won't work, not this time," she said through gritted teeth. "I . . . don't love Tyldak, but long ago, he loved me. I may owe him nothing but this one thing - but this one thing, *I owe him.*"  
  
"Dewshine - beloved - think! Think of what you say! I beg of you to think!"  
  
"It's not about thinking. It's past that, something completely different. It's something I have to do out of something in my soul. I have to do it. *This* is Recognition. *This* is what it means to be soul-mates."  
  
Scouter felt his throat tighten, his eyes run moist, worry, anger and an overwhelming sense of loss fell upon him like masses of snow in white-cold. Through long eights of turns he feared this moment, saw it in sweaty nightmares and dark days. One day, he knew, this call, this ancient call all Elves must heed, will reclaim her, his precious lovemate. But never in his worst nightmares did he think the call would lure her away from the Holt, away from him, into all the unknown dangers he feared he could never protect her from.  
  
Unthinking, unaware, he heard himself say: "I'll come with you."  
  
And against his every expectation, Dewshine let out a squeal of delight, throwing her slim arms around his neck. "Ooh! How I hoped you will! I thought I may have to do it alone . . . and I was so afraid . . .!"  
  
Pressing him to her with endless warmth, with a silent promise of devotion, protection, care, he no longer heard her relieved chattering. He could only hold her in trembling arms, feel the weight dropping from his chest, and wonder how could he ever be so stupid as to doubt their love.  
  
Looking outward at the sky, the moment was abruptly shattered as Scouter found himself looking into the giggling Pike's eyes. Aroree was there also by the Howlkeeper, looking part charmed and part quite embarrassed. They were both waiting patiently, making not a sound.  
  
"Can we join in?" Pike asked with a wide smile.  
  
The younger Elf leaped to his feet, startling Dewshine and banging his head on the thick ground above it. All the things he suddenly intended to let Pike know he thought of him made way to one yelp. "Puckernuts! What - ?"  
  
"Pike said we won't be heard out here . . ." Aroree said in quiet apology.  
  
"I never told anyone of this place," Pike added, completely honest. He was no longer smirking, now intend on having his trespassing forgiven. "I didn't know you lovebirds would be . . ." then it happened. He truly caught the look in Scouter and Dewshine's eyes, and had gone slightly pale at that. "Oh . . . now I see . . . oh, rotten fish guts . . . you - you don't really mean to . . ."  
  
"Go." Scouter's voice was dangerous as it has rarely been. His brown eyes, normally calm, flashed silent fire. "Go, you've heard nothing."  
  
"Wait!" Quick as a little fox, Dewshine leaped from behind him and out of the borrow just as the frightened Pike and Aroree began to back away. "You were going to . . ." her voice drifted off, as if on its own.  
  
For a moment the two stood uncertain and Scouter glared from within the borrow. Dewshine's gaze was deep and heartfelt, one of touching trust. She was afraid, she was lonely, she was being driven by a will and need greater, far removed from her own. She'll take all the little risks to face the big one.  
  
At last, Pike understood, and nodded. "We were going . . . and, ah, Skot and Krim, too. Maybe Tyleet, Venka, Zhantee . . ."  
  
Scouter rolled his eyes. "Oh, by Two-Spear's madness! Is there anyone left out of this?"  
  
"We talked Mender out of joining. Ember might get some ideas she shouldn't."  
  
Dewshine was beaming. She climbed to the open and her lovemate after her, and she looked at him with exploding excitement "Eight and one of us! What can stand in our way now?"  
  
"Cutter can, if he finds out," Aroree said shortly, in a businesslike manner strange for her. They knew her well enough to notice the tension in her bell-chime voice. "We had better leave tonight, my friends, tomorrow at most . . ."  
  
"Does Skywise know?" Scouter asked wearily, now knowing their fate was sealed.  
  
"She said she'll tell him," Pike nodded toward Aroree. "But since you two know, we might as well go all together. Everyone else is preparing - we leave by sunrise," meekly he added, "we hope."  
  
"I must talk with my father . . ." Dewshine mused, then blinked. "Oh! I can't, can I?"  
  
"My mother is best not knowing either. They'll know where we went once we're gone," her lovemate agreed. He turned to Pike and Aroree. "Curses on all your heads, but there's no turning back. I promised Dewshine I'll come with her and so help me, I will. Where would Skywise be now?"  
  
The two glanced at each other. "I saw him speak to Cutter and run off," Pike said. "He's probably with Tyldak on the hill somewhere. Honestly, you'd think they were lovemates!"  
  
Scouter sputtered. Dewshine burst into giggles.  
  
"Then we go," she said, perfectly relieved, perfectly beautiful in her joy under starlight. "We go."  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
The two moons shone high in the sky, no cloud of the many gathered obscuring their light. Skywise could only be grateful for that as he wandered absently, away from the Father Tree and the tribe and toward the depth of the forest. The rest of the Wolfriders were still occupied discussing the council, and he took comfort in the solitude. Nothing else was left for him, miserable outcast, unheeded prophet, cub stargazer without his wolf blood, nothing at all.  
  
His tribe denied him, his friends turned from him, his soul-brother stood against him. He felt lighter than air, as if any random gust of wind could snatch him away and leave him to the mercy of the gathering storm. There was nothing left to hold on to, no connection to the world, not even the quest. Even that hope was gone.  
  
He felt a rustle in the mess of bushes and branches behind him, stood motionless, eyes closed, as Cutter emerged and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Fahr."  
  
A ripple passed through his every muscle. He contained it, spoke slowly.  
  
"*Sorry?*"  
  
He heard the chief sigh, didn't turn to look at him, didn't want to see him, wanted to be caught in the wind and taken away from it all, far away, someplace he'd belong, like before, like a blink away.  
  
"I don't regret a word I said, mind you, but I . . . I do wish they'd have chosen otherwise, I truly do."  
  
"Oh, really," Skywise didn't mean for his voice to sound so wounding. It came out on its own so cynical and cold. He stood his ground, as if afraid any move will lead his fists to disobey him as his voice did. 'Shout at me, oppose me, humiliate me before this whole tribe, but for all the High Ones, don't lie to me. If this is how it has to happen, let it happen already.' "You're *sorry* they all now take me for a fool, then? You're *sorry* for taking from me the only thing I've longed for the past six turns? You're *sorry*, I suppose, for what this tribe has become?"  
  
From behind him came a low growl. Cutter gritted his teeth in mindless anger. His comforting pat was turning into a crushing grip.  
  
"I don't have to take this dung from you," he whispered dangerously. "I am sorry, and I thought I'd let you know. But if that's all you can think about."  
  
"Oh, please!" shaking off the chief's hand, Skywise turned, now an image of burning, erupting rage, his breath hard and face red. He stumbled back a few steps, fighting for control. "You think you can erase it all? 'I'm sorry for everything, Fahr. We're still brothers, aren't we?' and then it's all better? Is that it? Is this what you came to expect from all these lazy, cowardly excuses for Wolfriders? Please! I'm better than that!"  
  
Had he been thinking but a moment ahead, had he been truly aware of what he was saying, not merely snapping in hot, focused rage, had he not spoken with a real and all-consuming intention to hurt, he would never have said it. He would never have thought of saying it. He would never have dared. Now, he thought of it all a moment too late.  
  
Cutter struck him hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground, blood spluttering from his mouth and nose.  
  
He was only dimly aware of the next few moments as he lifted himself weakly on one elbow, wiping his face, hazily surprised at the taste of blood. The chief loomed over him, dark in the moonlight and terrible in his rage. Cutter said nothing, looked down at him with something so close to pity, it stuck like a poison arrow in his very soul.  
  
*(If you insist,) there was venom in every word, (I will stuff eight eight eights of turns into your empty little head, and let you know exactly how much better you are than this tribe.)  
  
Feeling his chest constrict, in a flash of blinding, shocked pain, Skywise realized he was afraid, deathly afraid of his chief and soul-brother. This figure towering over him was not the cub-chief desperate for guidance, nor the loving forever friend of days past. It was a new creature, born of bitterness and suspicion, one he could never hope to know or befriend. A quiet wail, like an injured wolf's, escaped from him.  
  
*(T-Tam . . . I . . . w-what happened to you? What happened to us . . .? We were . . . b-brothers . . .)  
  
Through a curtain of tears he saw Cutter's stony expression melt, saw his eyes grow wide, horror sparking in their depths. Before his beaten, sobbing friend, the chief of the Wolfriders kneeled.  
  
"High Ones forgive me . . ." he choked out.  
  
Abruptly, he stumbled forward and pressed Skywise to him hard, his grasp soft, warm and cherishing, eternal. In that moment the stargazer forgot all, forgave all, nothing mattered except his friend's nearness, all else can be lost, all else be damned.  
  
Nothing would come between them.  
  
"*I* forgive you." he whispered. "*I* forgive you."  
  
Neither of them knew how long they were sitting on the muddy ground, holding each other gently, breathing slowly, deeply, in perfect rhythm, knowing nothing but each other and a bond nothing could break. Bit by bit they moved away, until finally Cutter stood, looked around him and sighed.  
  
"Leetah will wonder where I've gone," he said softly, offering Skywise a hand, which he accepted gratefully. "It's yours, Fahr, the quest, the decision. I won't stop you . . . but I'll worry about you . . ."  
  
The stargazer allowed himself a faint smile. "I know, Tam. I know."  
  
A spark of old fire lit up momentarily in the elder chief's eyes, and then he turned and disappeared into the thick green forest.  
  
Skywise stood, wiped his eyes and went to the hill.  
  
It was a bad night for star-watching. The sky was almost entirely obscured by clouds, promising hard rain by morning, and their luring depths could not be seen. Still the hill stood bathed in the light of the two moons, and he knew all the answers he needed would come to him here. One sentence of Cutter's rang over and over in his mind. 'It's yours, Fahr, the quest, the decision . . .'  
  
Could he go?  
  
'Alone? You mustn't!'  
  
With Cutter, or not at all? Was that the face of things?  
  
'Tyldak will come with me. He has nothing here.'  
  
Not Cutter, not his soul-brother, not his travelling companion of old.  
  
'A crippled Glider and a stargazer without even his wolf blood - you'll both be dead within a day.'  
  
A stargazer without even his wolf blood . . .  
  
A stargazer . . .  
  
Skywise looked up. A tiny light flashed at him shortly from within the clouds.  
  
Who else, then?  
  
He quickened his pace.  
  
As he expected, he found Tyldak on the hilltop. The winged Elf shared his love of the barren place, with its beautiful view of the sky. They spent some of the past day there, together, merely looking upward until their eyes could no longer tolerate the emptiness. They spoke but little. What was there worth speaking of before all the sky's glory?  
  
But in the few words he said, the Glider proved to Skywise he had never met a soul so kin to his own.  
  
A short climb, and then the thoughtful stargazer settled on the yellow grass, leaned back and studied the clouds. He said nothing of the afternoon's events or the council. There was still something uneven in Tyldak's gaze, his eyes were reddened and torn wide. With a start, Skywise realized he must have been crying for several hours.  
  
He said nothing. No words of comfort, not any words could be enough.  
  
"Look at the clouds," Tyldak whispered, transfixed, "look at them up there. What are they? How did they get there? I once tried to fly to the clouds, but up there, after a while, the heat and air fade, and I dropped like a rock. I was sick for a long time after that, and I thought - sometimes I still think - that I was being punished for flying too high."  
  
Skywise gulped and pressed his knees to his chest. "And . . . do you really believe that?"  
  
The Glider didn't answer for a while. After moments of cold, tense silence, they looked at each other and their eyes met.  
  
"There is no such thing as flying too high," they said as one, and smiled suddenly.  
  
They relished the quiet, peaceful night another moment, then Skywise spoke. "I'm going on the quest."  
  
Tyldak visibly blinked. "Alone?"  
  
"I . . . was hoping you'd come with me."  
  
A sarcastic hint in his voice, now. "Me? Of all this wondrous tribe, a crippled stranger?"  
  
The Wolfrider carefully considered his next words, but they seemed to come out on their own. "You are, at least, crippled in body. They - why, they're crippled in spirit. You tell me what's worse."  
  
There was a long pause, then: "I can't."  
  
Skywise froze. "What? Why??"  
  
"I'm tired, Wolfrider, I'm burned out. If I've ever felt wanderlust, that died with Kahvi. I've no desire to return to that cursed place of metal and pain. I don't know what hurts worse anymore - my body or my soul - but they both beg for rest."  
  
"You can rest . . ." Skywise stuttered, shocked at the unexpected, striking refusal. "We can wait as long as you wish. The quest is mine, we go when we choose . . ."  
  
Unfazed, Tyldak slowly shook his head, closing his still moist eyes. "We will be, then, waiting for something that would never return."  
  
"No . . . it couldn't be . . . it couldn't be . . ." the stargazer muttered over and over. No pain dealt to him by Cutter's fists could have matched this stabbing wound from someone he had almost thought to be his only friend left. Once the shock of disappointment faded, his mind furiously set to work. Tyldak couldn't mean what he said, not Tyldak as well.  
  
"I . . . see . . ." he finally said, with an air of full control. "But then, you must want revenge on them."  
  
Tyldak frowned in obvious misunderstanding. "What? Why would I - "  
  
"What I say is, all they've done to you, you must hate them," he kept a completely straight face.  
  
"Hate them?" More than confused, the Glider seemed genuinely appalled "I - "  
  
"Don't you hate them? They killed your lovemate, sent you crawling back here, looking for us savages for help!"  
  
"I can't say I hate them. . . ! How would they know - "  
  
"It's their fault you can't fly, you know," Skywise innocently mused on, not meeting the other Elf's eyes. "Their metalkillers broke your wing. Even if you did ruin it flying here, it is their fault in the first place!"  
  
"But to hate them -!"  
  
"All they've done to you, you must hate them -!"  
  
"I *don't know* them!" Tyldak cried finally, stumbling away from the strangely grinning Skywise. "How can I hate what I never saw? There's nothing to hate about shadows, there's nothing to hate about guesses and belief!"  
  
"Then you see!" the stargazer leaped in triumph. "You see! It burns in you - the need to *know*, not to merely trust the shadows and the guesses and the beliefs. It's not lost for you yet! Come with me - fly with me! This time the clouds are so much nearer . . .!"  
  
He breathed the cold night's air deeply, his eyes sparkling with the fire of his beloved stars. He won.  
  
*He won.*  
  
Tyldak was dumbstruck, sat considering a few more minutes. The trap he'd fallen in was masterfully planned - he'd give Skywise that much. But to set out on the quest - by land, no longer high in the heavens - to the place where he lost everything, lovemate and love of life - whom would he ever follow there?  
  
Still he felt the fire rise in him. Daring, adventure, *knowledge*, not merely faith. He feared the Metal Holt Elves, because he knew nothing of them. They were threatening ghosts in his mind, huge and terrible, faceless shadows. Perhaps knowledge could bring them to the light.  
  
'To fly - all that I ask. To conquer the wind that kills and steals and freezes. To fly, to tame it, to know its secrets . . . and never be afraid again . . .'  
  
His mind reeled. 'Have I said these words? So long ago . . . I asked for wings . . . have I said these words?'  
  
Could he truly no longer remember?  
  
"You win, Wolfrider," he heard himself say. "I'll go with you."  
  
To his own surprise, under the loving moonlight, Skywise threw his head back and laughed, laughed freely, without pain and care, a rich, hollering laughter of relief, of overwhelming victory.  
  
"One day," he gasped through tears of laughter, "I'll get me my own wings, and you will teach me the secret of flight. We'll rule the heavens, you an I!"  
  
He was far too pleased, his soul far too free suddenly, to notice how obligatory, how strangely tired was Tyldak's smile. The fire rekindled, all the winged Elf could think of were journeys, long, beautiful journeys high above ground, old, forgotten journeys. 'I will never rule the heavens . . . never again. . . '  
  
He was grateful for the distraction when his sensitive ears picked up distant voices. A group of Elves was climbing up the hill. Glancing at Skywise, he saw the stargazer tense and rise from the yellow grass. For a moment they both kept dead silence, listening.  
  
"Someone's coming," Skywise said sternly.  
  
"Many someones."  
  
"Can you smell who - oh, of course," he smiled a knowing smile. "No wolf blood."  
  
"You're talking?" Tyldak shot back mercilessly.  
  
"Oh, go join with a Troll. And keep quiet while you do. The less to know we're leaving the better," he settled down and turned his gaze to the sky; no stars in sight. He huffed. "So much for innocently contemplating the stars."  
  
"So much for Wolfrider humor, if I dare say. It's a whole lot of your tribe, and some of those idiotic spitting things."  
  
"Preservers."  
  
"Whatever you say."  
  
'I could be having this same conversation with Cutter,' Skywise wondered.  
  
Five Elves were revealed against the cloudy sky: Pike, Aroree, Dewshine, Scouter and Zhantee. They walked hesitantly, with a measure to their steps that made it seem as if at any given moment they'd turn around. With a slight sigh, Skywise rose and walked toward them, hands on hips, looking his most authoritative. With luck, he'd leave the Holt behind him tomorrow with no one there to bid him goodbye - much less let him know how they'll regret his premature demise.  
  
"Shade and sweet water," he greeted simply, feeling his presence governing over theirs, a wolf protecting its territory. "No stars tonight, I'm afraid."  
  
Pike looked at Dewshine, Scouter nudged Aroree, Zhantee blushed darkly. It was the Howlkeeper who finally spoke. "We're not here for the stars."  
  
He flashed a slightly dangerous smile. "Come to talk to me of the error of my ways?"  
  
"We've come to ask to join you," Dewshine blurted out, and stumbled backwards into Scouter's arms.  
  
The effect of these simple words was stunning and not quite immediate as they registered slowly in Skywise's mind. He blinked, stiffened and fell back on the grassy ground, remaining sitting there and looking at the five rather foolishly.  
  
"What -?" He whispered, gaping.  
  
"And it's not just us!" Zhantee spoke quickly. "Skot and Krim and Tyleet and Venka are coming, too . . . if you'll have us."  
  
"What are they talking about?" Tyldak inquired, making his way from further up the hill.  
  
"They . . ." the words barely left Skywise's mouth - he could not bring himself to believe them. "They say they want to come with us," he started laughing quietly to himself. "They want to come with us! Oh, my eyes see with joy! A true quest! Together!"  
  
The Glider gave the group one quick, inconsiderate glance. He gave no visible sign of registering Dewshine's presence among them, but inside could feel his heart quicken. All these years, and still he could pierce the very depths of her soul with his gaze.  
  
That troubled him less than the thought of his soul open and yielding before hers.  
  
'Lree . . . I've never forgotten . . .'  
  
But seeing deep inside her soul, he said nothing.  
  
Gingerly rising to his feet, Skywise studied his unexpected allies with a suspicion of sorts. He could take such a feat from Zhantee and Pike, definitely from Tyleet, but Scouter's presence and the mentioning of Venka and the Go-Backs came as a surprise. In a way strangely removed from being angered and yet harshly dissatisfied he realized not half of the group was coming for reasons like his own - true curiosity. The others' motives escaped him.  
  
He quietly noted the look Dewshine and Tyldak exchanged. This is her connection, then. Could Skot and Krim be after Kahvi's killer? And if . . .  
  
With an inaudible grunt, he stopped himself. They were coming - what else mattered?  
  
'They come, but not for me or for what I've stood for. Is that any way to start a quest? Should I take them for their actions - or be angry at their motives?'  
  
He shook his head. 'You're thinking too much of it all, Fahr. If Cutter were here, he'd take them without blinking, simply because he can . . . but I'm not Cutter, am I . . . but I may be losing a  
  
chance . . . but will . . .'  
  
"When are we leaving, then?" came Tyldak's straightforward, disinterested voice, shattering his trail of thoughts and kicking him back to the immediate reality. At that moment, he learned the first lesson of many of the quest - the point where thinking stops.  
  
'I'm deathly afraid, aren't I?' He concluded with a strange calm and smiled at his six followers confidently. "Sunrise. Tell no one - they will try to stop us, have no doubt. Sleep well tonight and take along only what you're sure you'll need. Let Cutter and the others sit here and grovel - we go!"  
  
*(We go!!) the six of them cheered in reply, all motives and fears forgotten, one heart in the quest as one mind on the cry.  
  
They went down from the hill slowly, one by one, as to not be seen together and raise suspicion. Each Elf wordlessly headed to their own den with their own troubling thoughts. Aroree's mind was entirely on Skywise, his excitement and joy at their support, all her worries melting before the memory of his smile. Pike's thoughts were of howls and his lifemates; Tyldak's of knowledge and wind. Dewshine was dreamy yet determined as she rested her head on the shoulder of Scouter, who looked up and truly saw the sky for the first time in many turns.  
  
Skywise caught Zhantee the moment the Jack-wolfrider was about to descend the hill, teeming with wild excitement. It pained him to have to say the words he was to say - but there was no other choice. It was a duty of a sort, perhaps the same duty that pushed him to confront his chief time and again, consequences be damned. Something has to be done, and if it fell to him to do it, very well. He'd taken far worse than a begging pair of eyes.  
  
"Zhantee - I have to ask . . . that you stay," he said, catching the other Elf's gaze.  
  
Zhantee's dark hide paled, his joy faded instantly. "Stay? Why?"  
  
"I don't know what we're going to run into," answered the stargazer, with complete honesty, no threat, fear or demand in his voice. "We might not make it back - I might not make it back. If I don't, and while I'm gone, this tribe will need a stargazer."  
  
One expression speedily replaced the other on the small, round face - surprise, sudden resentment, disappointed grief, and finally, a hint of pride.  
  
"I understand," Zhantee said, straightening. In the moons' outpouring light, space spread beyond the hill, behind him, he was a stargazer in every fiber of his being. Skywise's breath caught in his chest abruptly. "I stay proudly."  
  
Beaming with joy and thanks, Skywise took Zhantee's hand in his, grasping a firm grasp of ancient brotherhood. "High Ones bless you, noble one!"  
  
"And you, on your journey . . . I will see it through your eyes yet!"  
  
"So you will!" they laughed quietly, freely, their voices snatched away in the wind heralding the coming storm. Skywise's heart was ready to burst with the thrill of the evening. He found friendship where he never thought to look.  
  
Still something was amiss for him as he made his way back to the Holt, something old and true throughout the turning seasons. He repeatedly dismissed the feeling as nonexistent, dangerous and foolish, but try as he might it was there. He longed for true understanding, for a bond not new and untried, for love born not of chance but of time and trial. What was he still lacking, with friends and lovemate by his side and a quest awaiting at dawn?  
  
Seeing the Father Tree from afar, the answer came to him as if by magic.  
  
He smiled, gave in to the feeling and climbed into Cutter's den.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
Skywise awoke the next morning as if from a blissful dream. Determined rays of sunlight prodded him out of sleep, and for a while he lay half-awake in the sunny patch, smiling to himself in a carelessly silly fashion. Something very good happened last night, and he was having trouble recalling just what.  
  
Glancing around him through the sweet fog of morning calm, he caught sight of Cutter sitting by him on the soft furs, smiling slightly. The den was otherwise empty. Leetah and the cubs were very quick to realize the two of them wanted to be alone.  
  
He stretched lazily, his mind on nothing at all. The previous night had been far too enjoyable to let go of so easily.  
  
"I was getting worried," the chief said, chuckling. "We haven't been at it that late, have we?"  
  
Skywise smiled innocently. "I can't imagine where you got that idea."  
  
"It's been too long."  
  
"By far."  
  
"I take it yesterday's done with?" The stargazer didn't even think before nodding in reply, and Cutter fell back on the fur, yawning. "Good . . . oooh, that late indeed . . . the sun's too high for sleeping, puckernuts . . ."  
  
At the mentioning of the sun, Skywise lurched, a sick feeling suddenly gathering in his stomach. He leaped for a clear look outside. The sun shone high in the sky, the morning already half-gone.!  
  
"Timmorn's blood! It's late!!" he yelped, fully awake, all other thoughts forgotten. He dressed in a scrambling hurry, dread and anxiety mercilessly chewing at him. Could his small group have been discovered? And High Ones, what then? Cutter would never forgive him . . .  
  
For now, the chief sat and watched in surprise, he too shaken out of sleepy pleasure, and was slower than his friend to react. When he finally grabbed for his own leathers, Skywise had already slipped the Lodestone around his neck and was virtually sliding down the tree, breathing hard as he ran the direction Cutter knew well - toward the hill.  
  
Muttering a curse under his breath - when will his friend's mind be clear of that obsession? - Cutter pulled on his clothes quickly and sent for Holdfast, who appeared below in moments, yipping excitedly. He dove down the trunk onto the wolf's back and set on a speedy run between the trees, tearing through the forest with all the swiftness of four powerful legs and two wild, free souls. The wolf and the wolf-chief stormed through the tribe already about its daily routine, tore across the edges of the forest, and were at the foot of the hill within moments.  
  
Cutter froze, instructed Holdfast to do the same.  
  
On the distant hilltop, Skywise wasn't alone. Far from that. He was virtually besieged by Elves - nervous, chattering Elves and their Wolf- friends spreading the smell of raw fear within fifty feet's range. The chief felt his throat tighten as he stared - eight more of his tribe stood there with the stargazer, conversing in hushed tones and looking around them, as if keeping a dreadful secret.  
  
With Holdfast walking by his side, he began progressing slowly up the hill. They weren't looking now. He was starting to catch snippets of their conversation - a remark of a long way, one line about hunting, someone mentioning dangers . . .  
  
*Dangers!* What was he thinking? Leaping back on his wolf, now powerful and imposing, looking at all from above, he rode up to meet them, not even trying to hide his presence. He saw Tyleet go pale when she noticed him, tugging at Skywise's arm. The others turned and their bright gazes faded, fearfully they started backing away in anxious embarrassment. To his complete, uncomfortable surprise, Skywise stood his ground, calmer and more collected than he'd seen him in days.  
  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Cutter asked hoarsely.  
  
"Going," the stargazer answered boldly, folding his arms in silent defense. "We're going, please don't try to stop us."  
  
"I . . . see," Something was decidedly strange about Skywise's demeanor - something new, unlike anything the chief has seen before. He told himself he was being careful when he edged slightly away from the cold blue eyes. "Why shouldn't I?"  
  
"Because I'd hate to have to challenge you."  
  
That truly shocked Cutter, making him wince and almost stumble off Holdfast's back. For several long minutes, he said nothing, every word snatched from his mouth. In all his long turns as chief of the Wolfriders, never had anyone spoken to him so. He felt dizzy - he never imagined . . .  
  
The small group exchanged shocked glances between themselves, but no whispers followed these. No words were said as there were no words for what happened before their very eyes. They stared at the two soul-brothers, mesmerized, waiting to see how the struggle of wills might turn out.  
  
For a small eternity, Cutter and Skywise stared at each other. The air reeked of tension, climax and turning of fates.  
  
*(Brothers, you said,) the chief sent stonily.  
  
Skywise nodded. *(Brothers, I thought, and maybe I was wrong. I thought I could make you see what I see, I was wrong. I thought I could change you, I was wrong. I thought you'd hear me, I was wrong. I thought nothing would come between us . . .)  
  
*(You were right.)  
  
Cutter lowered his head, slid off his wolf's back, turned his back to the group, and turned to leave.  
  
*(Go. Before my head gets the better of me,) they didn't move, and he forced the send, gritting his teeth in agony and anger. (Go, I said!)  
  
Stunned, confused and frightened, they turned to go, hopping on their wolves and rushing them down the hill and away toward Sun-Goes-Down. Cutter fell on the soft yellow grass and hugged his knees to his chest, and soon Holdfast was licking the warm tears off his face.  
  
Skywise took his band of travelers away from the New Holt, on the rocky land outside the forest surrounding it and past it to the flatlands beyond. None of them took but one look back at all they've left behind, perhaps never to return. Their eyes were only forward.  
  
The storm had come and passed.  
  
  
  
To Be Continued in chapter two - "The Quest Renewed"! 


	3. Two: The Quest Renewed

Look, another chapter! And it didn't even take that long! However, it'll be a while before the next one will be up, as I didn't even start it yet. But I'll certainly do my best.  
  
Disclaimer, author's note: see prologue.  
  
Notes on this chapter: yes, I did write all the legends and the songs thrown in. Fear me. There may be some problems with the geography of Abode and Wolfrider history, but kindly ignore them, eh? There's just no way I could've gotten my hands on some reading material living where I live.  
  
For the people who commented: firstly, my favorite character isn't Skywise but Tyldak, but I do so love writing about the Sexy Stargazer (. Secondly, in the previous chapter, Skywise and Cutter were just being their impossibly slashy selves. Wanted to keep it PG.  
  
Attention – For further reading: the themes and style of this story were heavily influenced by two books: Tom McGowen's "Odyssey from River Bend", one of the best fantasy novels I know, and "Watership Down" by Richard Adams. The last few pages should be read with Paul Simon's "Bright Eyes" playing in the background for full effect.  
  
  
  
Dialogue key:  
  
"Speech"  
  
'Thought'  
  
*(Sending)  
  
*emphasis* (instead of italic letters)  
  
  
  
Chapter Two: The Quest Renewed  
  
Does the road wind uphill all the way?  
  
Yes, to the very end.  
  
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?  
  
From morn to night, my friend.  
  
Christina Rossetti, "Up-Hill"  
  
  
  
Massive clouds darkened the faraway horizon when the small, uncertain group made its way toward Sun-Goes-Down and away from the Holt. The rain poured relentlessly for the better part of the night before dying out slowly by the little hours, leaving in its wake little clusters of grayness that secretly gathered, biding their time till morning. The sky stretched painted black and dark blue, heavy above their heads and somehow pressing down. Closer where the monstrous lumps were fading, the heavens were stark white, not a ray of sun in sight, and little cloud leftovers piled up drawing strange patterns in the infinite untouchable surface. The day frowned at the travelers, urging them to turn around and leave be the unexplored depths of the world it watched over.  
  
They rode in silence as heavy as the darkening sky, burdened with guilt and fear of the days ahead. For some of them, it was the first quest in eons, for some the very first quest. Tyleet, one of the latter, felt slightly disappointed as she crouched forward on Patience's back, taking in the view. This was not supposed to be like this at all. They shouldn't be riding in silence, their hearts dark and minds troubled, they shouldn't afraid and ill at ease. She never thought the quest would be like that, that wasn't what she dreamed of.  
  
She looked forward, to where Skywise and Tyldak were riding side by side, quietly talking. How must feel these two, for whom the quest cost so much?  
  
Rain began to trickle down.  
  
Tyleet's bright eyes flashed over her companions, who moved uncomfortably under the poking raindrops. The wolves made small grunting sounds of protest, and were soon joined by Pike and the Go-Backs. She firmly agreed; they've had enough rain. But she said nothing. Trickle went the rain. The Elves' clothes were soaked and they were starting to shiver. None opened their mouth to complain aloud.  
  
They made their quiet way through the rocky trails, barely sure where they were going. A thought struck Venka suddenly – the tribe had explored all around the Holt and every time reached the Vastdeep Water, finding no other Elves. Where could they be going, then?  
  
But she spoke no word, none of them did. They rode on in artificial, unsettling silence.  
  
The trail turned and winded in and out of small patches of trees, their branches dripping water and shaken by the gathering wind. The sound of raindrops tapping on leaves made Pike want to sing and howl. It was a familiar, comforting sound in an environment that was rapidly turning alien, and more, hostile. He gently stirred the growling Hotburr closer to Skot and Krim, who flashed knowing smiles, as untroubled by the weather as true Go-Backs. The three were silent, but no words were needed here.  
  
The rain trickled down rocks and trees and onto the ground, muddy puddles forming. In them, the wolves reluctantly soaked their paws and their riders caught glimpses of twisted mirror images. A lightning struck in the distance, making the small group jump and stop, counting silently, reaching four before the thunder followed. The heart of the storm was still far away. Some fear ebbed, but not the longing for shelter, for snuggles, for comforts left behind. No comfort from now on. From now on, only the quest.  
  
At the head of group, Skywise shuddered and cuddled tighter in a robe he was glad he thought to bring along. Always plan for the future, another lesson of the journey well learned. He glanced over his shoulder backward at his silent companions, then glared resentfully at Tyldak, who was completely oblivious to both rain and wind. "For all the High Ones, aren't you ever cold?"  
  
"The wonders of flesh-shaping," the Glider answered simply. "Is it a long way to the shore? This way of traveling is infernal."  
  
"Long, perhaps the entire day, but we can rest anytime." Requesting Timmain, who carried him with strange gladness, to turn, the stargazer came face to face with the other travelers as they stopped to listen to him. He was suddenly aware he was on a higher patch of ground, looking at them from above. 'Is this how Cutter must feel?' "Nasty weather, but maybe a bad start makes for a good ending. If any of you feels tired, say so, and we'll… um… we'll…" He gave up. "Why are you all… staring at me?"  
  
They said nothing for a several long moments, looking at each other.  
  
Getting no answer, he almost turned back. "Then we – "  
  
"*Timmorn's blood, Skywise! You almost challenged Cutter back there!!*" Scouter erupted. The others gave small nods, wide-eyed.  
  
In the fraction of a second that followed, Skywise made the final transition between the two answers. For a moment, his answer was to be "yes – and what of it?", then it hit him.  
  
He almost challenged Cutter. It was not a dream, a sudden whim, or a thought that crossed his mind. Fully thinking, fully aware, he almost challenged his chief and soul-brother for the leadership of the Wolfriders tribe.  
  
And he felt… *proud*. It was pride he was feeling, he realized with a flash of pain and guilt.  
  
'Because I did it, because here I am, little stargazer cub with eight-and- one followers heading toward the greatest adventure of my life. Let it be pride! It's time I felt that!'  
  
But in the meantime, he had to justify himself to them, and that promised to be a hard task. They all looked at him, expectant and angry.  
  
Just like in the council.  
  
"What else could I do? He was going to stop us from ever leaving!"  
  
"Troll dung! We're not humans that we solve everything with blows and knives. Weren't words enough?" Scouter pressed on. Dewshine looked at her lovemate sternly, but Pike and the Go-Backs were nodding, and Venka's eyes were hard.  
  
The stargazer felt choked, besieged yet again. Where was this going? 'High Ones grant me strength! I can't fail now – not with them as well!'  
  
His mind racing, he hazily saw Tyldak and Tyleet move forth to confront the group. The redheaded Elf's eyes were bright and flashing with unconcealed anger, while the Glider, taller than any of his companions and quite imposing at any situation, needed only to stand by her side. Theirs was a unified and determined front. Grateful, he exhaled and let them have their say.  
  
"Listen to yourselves!" Tyleet scolded, planting hands on hips and frowning. "Do you think Skywise *wanted* to do it? You all know how close him and Cutter are! How can you possibly be standing here, out of the Holt, on this quest – *accusing* him? Listen to yourselves!"  
  
"I know it may not be my place to speak here," Tyldak added quietly. "But if this incident is what it takes to save you from being frozen as you were – then by all means, let him do worse!"  
  
"One thing you're right about, Bird-Elf, is that you shouldn't be speaking here!" Krim shot mercilessly. Dewshine leaped forth to grab the hotheaded warrior's arm.  
  
"Krim, leave him be! He's just trying to help Skywise…"  
  
"Help Skywise! Why not? Let a stargazer and a Glider lead us!"  
  
"High Ones, lifemate, what are you saying?" Pike retaliated, much to the Go- Back's surprise. Skot gave a quiet growl. Tyleet stood her ground, while Tyldak stepped back, lowering his gaze. Nine voices rose in anger, letting loose all their fearful, frustrated doubts, mixing in the tapping and rapping of the rain. The small group was at an uproar.  
  
Skywise watched all of that silently and felt even colder than before. They were falling apart!  
  
"All right, that's *enough*!" He bellowed over the breaking thunder.  
  
Instantly falling silent, his bickering companions spun and stared at him, gaping.  
  
Like before, from the corner of his eye he saw Tyleet smiling slightly to herself, and that gave him the strength to speak on.  
  
"I know you're wet and cold," he said authoritatively, "And I know you're all frightened and this isn't what you thought it would be like, but that's that, and we're all in this together. Whatever I did, I may have to do worse in time, and so may any of you. If there's anyone here not willing to pay that price, let them leave and none of us will hold it against them. But if we're doing this, as much as we may disagree, we can't afford to fight!"  
  
The breath caught in his chest as they considered the logic of his words. Moments seemed to stretch away forever. If he had it in him, it will soon be found out, and if he did not, nothing else mattered. Drip-drop went the rain…  
  
A harsh wind tore through the forest suddenly, making the trees whistle threateningly and striking the Elves. They winced and shrunk away from it, teeth gritted, eyes closed, slender arms instantly wrapping the shivering body. The storm was growing cruel and the cruelty urged them on, make the choice: home to safety, warmth, routine, or onward to the great, terrible adventure.  
  
The tension was heavy and sour in the air. The future held its breath and waited. It had to happen – it had to happen soon.  
  
The wind subsided, the air relaxed, tormenting no longer. Dewshine slowly opened her large blue eyes and looked up at Skywise, who had not moved a muscle through the whole ordeal.  
  
"I'm cold," she whispered, "am I'm frightened. But I'll go with you to the end of this world, if you'll ask that of me."  
  
To his own surprise, Scouter did not say a word to counter her. His voice was clear, confident as he spoke the strange words. "And I with her, to the end of this world and farther."  
  
"And me, as well," Pike dreamily said.  
  
Skot momentarily glanced back at the direction of the Holt. "I don't know…" he said miserably. "If Pike thinks we should…"  
  
"Oh, think of all the adventures, Skot! Just like the old days in the Frozen Mountain… to miss it all because you're cold – or because someone spoke his mind a little too loudly?" Krim urged, now sharing the others' excitement. Her gaze was true and bright, she was looking the world in the eye, ready to spit in all hardships' faces.  
  
Tyleet and Venka silently measured each other a while. The dark sorceress, much unlike her companions, was not moved by brave worlds and facing up to the storm. Yet for all her steely will, she gave in quickly to a begging pair of loving eyes.  
  
"For you, Tyleet, only for you," she muttered, nodding to Skywise.  
  
The storm raged around them but they stood reassured, ready to face whatever fate might summon to them in their journey. Skywise felt the pride glow in him like the sun beyond the gray clouds. Beaming at them, he urged his mount forward and cried: "Then again we go! We'll be at the shore by nightfall today!"  
  
"Ayoooah!" The group called out in reply, and was soon hurrying across the land staring the harsh winds in the eye.  
  
Only Aroree, who had not said a word throughout her lovemate's trial, who rode last and slow behind her fellow journeymen, knew, and kept the knowledge to herself, that this had not been an end but rather a simple beginning. As much as she loved Skywise, it was clear to the wise elder that he had but delayed his trouble, perhaps a number of days, perhaps some weeks, but merely delayed, not solved. He still had much, far too much to learn. Nothing ended in this brief face-off; nothing was resolved when he dazzled them with his determination.  
  
But for now, let him be proud, let him hope.  
  
Sighing to herself, she sped to catch up with the rest.  
  
Some long, cold and wet hours later, Skywise realized what a fatal mistake he made pushing his followers to ride on and ride fast, not stopping to rest but one moment. The storm was not fading; rather intensified until between the rain, the heavy shadows of the clouds and the trees he could barely see the tips of Timmain's ears. He felt the poor, worn out animal's ribs quickly rise and fall beneath him as it panted, and looking back, knew none of the Elves was in any better shape.  
  
Worse of all gnawed at him the sight of Tyldak, who seemed seconds away from dropping unconscious suddenly. An inexperienced rider under any circumstances, he now also struggled with the pain of his injured wing and exhaustion far worse than any strong, healthy, forest-born Wolfrider. The stargazer's heart went out to his newfound friend. So obviously suffering, he said nothing to betray it.  
  
Skywise glanced around him. The area they traveled in now was covered with more trees, their lush tops blocking some of the rain and the terrible wind. The ground was hard even when soaked, good for walking or riding, it was still early. They could go a while longer. They could…  
  
He himself felt no tiredness, was no longer cold. He knew only the pride and the knowledge that yes, they would get there. He knew only the quest. This inner fire warmed him, drove him on. He rode in dreamy silence, eyes unfocused. Yes, they could make it. One step at a time, a few hours more…  
  
Alarmed cries shook him out of his dreamlike state. Perking, he quickly turned to see what happened when his mind was miles away, and at once paled and leaped down to the ground. Tyldak had fallen off his wolf's back and remained collapsed in the shade of one of the thick trees, the shocked animal standing over his limp body whining. The others were immediately by him, speaking in a mix of loud, frightened voices. Skywise's heart threatened to burst when he pushed Dewshine and Venka out of the way and settled by his friend's side. Was he conscious? Breathing? 'What have I done??'  
  
"Tyldak! What…?" the words refused to come out. Seeing the Glider awake, he feared an angry response, feared the group's reaction. This was his fault! He should never have pushed any of them so far, should have known one of them would break sooner or later. How could he have been so stupid and blind? Where were his great aspirations now?  
  
"I'm… sorry…" the winged Elf muttered, weakly trying to rise. "Should have known… still not well enough to ride for so long…"  
  
"What's he saying? He never rode a day in his life, no wonder he's like that!" Skot whispered to Krim. Skywise caught wind of that, silently screaming at himself for not thinking the same before they've left. Even Aroree could handle long rides after living with the Wolfriders for eons, but Tyldak, who had never been anything but a Glider, what did he expect of him?  
  
"He has to rest," Skywise finally said, rising and addressing the group and trying to regain his self-confidence. "We'll stop here for a while."  
  
"What? But the rest of us – !" Pike quickly retaliated.  
  
"Are freezing to death," the stargazer cut him off authoritatively, smiling back at Dewshine's grateful gaze. "There's a big tree over there – it should block the rain pretty well. We can build a fire and sleep till the storm's over."  
  
The Howlkeeper still pouted, but Tyleet leaned over and, smiling playfully, whispered to him. "We could also use a story, if you'd care to tell."  
  
"Oh," he immediately relaxed, smiling back at her. "That's different."  
  
A thunder crash in the distance sent them scrambling for cover before anything else could be said.  
  
They made camp under a towering trunk thicker than the Father Tree, where there was room for all, Elves and wolves, to sit and be protected from the relentless rain. In its shade there was little wind and the ground was dry, yet still they sat there shivering and glancing around them frightfully. The Wolfriders were hardy beings, used to danger, discomfort, even death. But the storm unnerved them and muddled their senses. For all their enthusiasm and determination, there was none truly at ease with the day's events, and they were thankful for the rest and the shelter. One and all missed their home, now far behind.  
  
Knowing it was his duty, Skywise rose, ignored his persistent instincts. "Let's build a fire," he said in a voice that was still cheerful. "Come along now! We can't just sit here and wait till we all freeze!"  
  
Grunting quietly, Skot and Krim left their protected places by the tree and followed him into the forest. They found wood that was not too wet, and some fire-stones that were not too dusty and built a fire that was not too small. Nothing was good or even sufficient, everything cobbled and thrown together hastily and almost carelessly. And yet soon, sitting around the fire, reaching out to warm their hands, chewing on whatever foods they brought along and feeling their clothes dry, none of them felt the need for anything more. They began to embrace the discomfort, the hardships. From this trial by fire and rain, they knew, they will emerge stronger.  
  
Glancing around her, Tyleet suddenly grinned with a hint of mischief. She leaned over several of her companions and sent a nimble little hand into Pike's leather bag, then laughed loudly. As the others joined in, giggling and gesturing, and Pike blushed red hot, she pulled out a handful of ripe Dreamberries and held them up for everyone to see.  
  
"Honestly, you can't say you're surprised," she said, beaming at her friends' laughter.  
  
"I'm surprised he wouldn't share," Skywise answered, casually thrusting a hand into the bag. "Help yourselves, all of you!"  
  
"Aw, no!" Pike groaned a moment too late, as seven of his nine excited companions snatched the bag and passed it from hand to hand. Soon the group was alive with chattering and laughter. Cloud the mind as they would, Dreamberries made an Elf happy in the coldest and most miserable of days. Not a full minute was gone before the pouting Howlkeeper found his bag of treasure returned to him almost emptied. At least he thought to hide the other one better…  
  
"Now, there's a fine way to start a quest!" Skot declared a little while later, leaning back and staring at the sky between the heavy leaves. "I'd say even the clouds'll start going away soon."  
  
"They're ashamed to see the lot of us this drunk," Skywise answered with a smile. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted Venka and Tyldak were sitting away from the group and have not taken their share. 'I'd swear these two like feeling sorry for themselves!' "Afraid there's not much left, but you can always squeeze some juice out of Pike, you know."  
  
"I re- ren- rer – *resent* that remark!" the Howlkeeper called from where he lay, misty eyed and smiling stupidly.  
  
"No, thank you," Venka softly said.  
  
Tyldak huffed. "Oh, those things are nice. Cloud your head and kill your balance and after a while you're crawling merrily in the muddiest spot you can find and your head hurts terribly when you're back to your senses, after who knows how long. I'll leave you to indulge yourselves."  
  
"More for us!" Tyleet answered simply and burst into satisfied giggles.  
  
Grinning, Skywise nodded, then hopped over a thick root to where Pike fell after unsuccessfully wobbling to some drier spot. He nudged several times before the Howlkeeper rose on one elbow and gave him a hazy look. "What?"  
  
"You promised us a howl earlier," the stargazer replied. "We're all waiting."  
  
Pike's head seemed to clear at once. "A howl…! Yes, I remember…" he rubbed his hands together and flashed an inviting smile across the group. Hooray for Skywise for getting them out of the Holt, but now, it was his turn.  
  
It took a little time to get nine chattering Elves, seven of them quite drunk, to form an acceptable circle around the fire. But once they did, everything seemed to disappear, from the Dreamberry-mist in their eyes to the whistling of the wind that still raged. There was the fire and the Howlkeeper, and that was one of the times when that was all there should be. Nine pairs of eager eyes, small reflections of fire flickering in their depths, settled on Pike as he breathed deeply and stood ready.  
  
"A howl it is," he said lightly, his voice already softening, taking on the special tone of weaving legends. "What exactly would you like to hear of…?"  
  
Dewshine jumped. "How Goodtree tamed the snowstorm!"  
  
"No, that's old! Tell us about the Palace War, lifemate!" Skot countered cheerfully.  
  
"No, something nicer… of the human who loved Mantricker!" Venka asked.  
  
"Wait!" Tyleet hastily silenced them all. "This is Skywise's quest. And as such, I'd like the hear about the first stargazer!"  
  
His interest piqued, Skywise frowned and leaned forward. He had never heard that story.  
  
"The first stargazer…" the Howlkeeper's brow furrowed and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… I know this story. It's a good, old one, though how much of it really happened no one is sure. The one we howl for, then, is Heavenly.  
  
"Heavenly was one of the first cubs born in the time of Timmorn Yellow- Eyes, and she was a beautiful little thing from the first moment. She had a red-gold pelt, like yours, Tyleet, and her eyes were as large as Aroree's and as blue as Dewshine's." The three giggled as Scouter pouted. Pike smiled to himself and continued. "And she was as swift as the wind, keen of ears and eyes and bolder than old Nightrunner, and in the hunt was second only to Timmorn Yellow-Eyes himself.  
  
"But for all her gifts, Heavenly didn't care for hunting or howling with the pack, nor for loving or joining with any of the many who sought her love. Heavenly's one passion from the very beginning had always been the night sky.  
  
"Now, at Timmorn's time, many of the tribe were still of the Firstcomers, and both them and their cubs were learning to live in the Way. So that the tribe was all rather worried about little Heavenly, who longed for the stars that were no longer within their reach. At clear nights, when both Mother and Child moons were shining down on the First Holt, they would take her running and howling and hunting, to take her mind away from it all. Heavenly ran with the pack swifter than all cubs, and hunted the sweetest, fattest game, and howled to both moons like all the tribe. But when she howled, her eyes were open, and she was looking at the stars.  
  
"One night, in the clear dark between the trees, Heavenly and some of the others were hunting a wild bear. Heavenly leaped on its back and was set with her knife to cut its throat, when her eyes caught a flash high above. And as the dreamy cub stared at the star shining down especially on her, the bear she hunted lunged at her wolf-friend and struck it down, killing the poor thing.  
  
"Heavenly was gazing upward but a moment, and her friends managed to slay the bear without her help, but the wolf could not be brought back to life. Heavenly was brought before her chief, who was moments away from clawing out her stargazing eyes, when she ran from the Holt and hid deep in the woods.  
  
"All that night, Heavenly wandered alone, crying for her wolf-friend and wondering what was the place of the stargazer among the Wolfriders. She was the best huntress, not lesser than any of the tribe in anything, but her soul was not down on this world, and she longed to follow.  
  
"No one is sure what really happened that fateful night to Heavenly the Stargazer. But if the howls ring true, as she looked as her beloved night sky and howled her pain to them, a light came to her from high above, and Soul Met Soul. Heavenly had Recognized a star.  
  
"She came back to the Holt laughing and dancing, full of stories of her strange Recognition. She told to the astonished tribe of the soft, loving eyes that gazed down on her, of the caressing voice she had heard echoing in her mind, of the beautiful light. But the more she told, the less they believed her. Even sending didn't help, because send as she may, they could receive nothing. Heavenly's miserable love was hers alone.  
  
"Surely, you think, Timmorn Yellow-Eyes was not pleased that his best huntress' mind and heart were all on an impossible Recognition. And if the story's true, he had secretly hoped himself to Recognized the beautiful stargazer (though how true is the story, no one knows). But whatever it was, anger or jealousy, he never again let Heavenly see the stars. He hunted with her at the day until she was too tired to keep her eyes open, and put a guard on her den at night. And slowly, Heavenly, whose Recognition was denied her, sickened and lost all her beauty and skill. All the tribe could see that, all save Timmorn, who could not bear to think of Heavenly losing her soul to the night sky again.  
  
"One day, some weeks later, the tribe gathered to howl for a fallen friend, and with them Heavenly's guard. That night, her den unguarded, Heavenly sneaked out and ran to the wood. She had not seen the night sky and weeks, and that was her undoing, for when she looked up and saw her star- lifemate's eyes, she gave a shrill cry of joy and desire. And as she sped away from the Holt, her chief was already on her trail.  
  
"Timmorn Yellow-Eyes chased Heavenly through the woods, calling her to stop, begging her to come to her senses, but all she knew was the call of the sky, denied her for so long, and the call of her fantastic Recognition. A storm broke out, fiercer and darker than any of us has ever seen. The clouds hid the stars from Heavenly's longing eyes, but she ran on, unable to stop. Timmorn's fur grew heavy and he was cold and tired, and still he ran after her, sending his love to her that he never told of. She broke out of the forest and collapsed on the flatland, and stopping between the last trees, he saw her scream and cry to the stars only she could see, scream to be set free from the prison this world had become to her.  
  
"Then a bolt of skyfire erupted from the dark clouds, and Timmorn leaped to cover Heavenly and protect her. It struck them both, but the wolf chief was strong, while Heavenly, tired and ill and young, fell to the ground, dying.  
  
"Timmorn caressed her and held her close to him and sent frantically for the tribe and a healer. He held in his hands both her body and soul, refusing to let the beautiful, brave, determined girl go. Looking deep into her fading blue eyes, he thought for a moment, a single, perfect moment, that he had Recognized her, but the next moment saw her eyes were locked on the stars.  
  
"He let her free of his embrace and howled for her, stronger and longer than he had ever howled in his life. When the healer arrived, he did not let him touch her. Heavenly was free.  
  
"And when the stargazer died, the tribe saw a flash in the sky, and a star fell down and disappeared between the trees. And when the Wolfriders went to where it fell, they found the dead body of a young male Elf with a soft, handsome face and sparkling robes, who shone in the night like a star, who looked everything just as Heavenly had told.  
  
"Heavenly had no cubs. In her short life, she loved none but her star- lifemate. But from that day on, sometimes are born in the tribe cubs that are more of the sky that of this world. And those cubs we say have Heavenly's blood. And those cubs, we call stargazers.  
  
"But how much of this is true and how much is a legend, only the stars themselves can tell."  
  
His tale done, Pike closed his eyes and let his head drop on his chest.  
  
The group sat still, its silence interrupted only by a faint sob. None looked to see who was it that cried.  
  
The forest was lit red and gold by the sunset. As the tale rolled the clouds thinned and disappeared, leaving the air cool, rich and pleasant, and now night began to spread like a comforting blanket across the land. Soon the sun will be gone and the stars will show.  
  
Moved by an urge too deep and primal to be ever denied, Skywise threw his head back and howled at the setting sun. Wordlessly his companions joined him. The sound was strong, standing for unity, and truth, and bittersweet remembrance. It would be carried away from them by the wind, snatched and tumbled between the trees and far away back to the Holt, and perhaps all those they've left behind will hear it, and silently bid them well in their journey.  
  
They've said very little for the few hours left of the day. The tale set their minds speeding, wondering, considering, made them lightly sad and quietly thoughtful. They plowed through the forest a short while, picking fruits and hunting small game, and then for a long time merely sat under the tree that was their shelter. The clash at the Holt, the storm, the tale, all came together in their minds making the day into a magnificent whole. The quest could wait a while until they have come to terms with and understood it all.  
  
The sun was all but gone; everything now bathed in thick shadows. The travelers settled for the night among the roots, basking in the familiar, well-loved smell of the wood. Each wolf cuddled down by its rider and between soft fur and strong leathers both were comfortably warm. Leaning back against the trunk, in a sudden burst of inspiration, Skywise broke a small branch and began painting lines on the ground. A small dot – that was the Holt, and a long line represented the way so far crossed. Resolving to find a way to track their journey in the morning, he lay his head on his wolf-friend's fur and closed his eyes, ready to drift away. There would be no stargazing tonight, not tonight.  
  
Crickets chirped deep in the forest. The two moons shone high in the sky. From the ensemble of sleeping Elves rose Tyleet's voice: "Pike…? Do you think Heavenly really had to die…?"  
  
"I dunno, 'Leet…" Pike mumbled in reply. "I guess so… she just wasn't right for this world."  
  
Skywise slept very badly that night.  
  
  
  
*******************  
  
Morning came like blessed peace after a hard time, like cool water in the drought, banishing away all the cold and darkness and doubt that plagued the ten Elves the day before. The beaming, joyous sun dried away every last bit of rain, leaving the ground firm and good for walking, and more importantly, seemed to breath life into the travelers. When waking, at very dawn, they were hostile and disgruntled, even the ever eager Skywise and Tyleet, and with good reasons. Their heads hurt, an unpleasant reminder of the Dreamberries feast, and their muscles were stiff after a night on the hard ground. They were far from happy over having to get up and go on. But soon, the sunbeams warmed both bodies and hearts, and the group came alive with hearty conversations, soft songs and little jokes. The endlessly spread trees stood before them as if inviting, playfully daring them to cross the thick forest and see all its hidden treasures. Birds chirped between the branches, the grass between the roots was green and soft to the touch. The sky could not be bluer. Each soul sang with the blessing of the day. The quest had truly begun! No more doubts. What could be better than marching on a friendly land, the sky cloudless above and friends by your side?  
  
The morning went by gleefully, as mornings of good days will. Well-rested, no one had any trouble riding for hours at end, even out of the way occasionally to explore the shadowy forest depths. On one such little adventure, Pike and Skot found little flowers whose scent made them sneeze, and amused themselves and Krim by throwing clusters of them at poor Scouter. On another Tyldak had a strange run-in with a tuftcat and scrambled back to the group, cursing and swearing on the spot that anyone who made their home in the woods must be mad. Venka sneaked away by herself, and they spent an hour calling for her and were getting worried when she returned with her hands full of glittering honeycombs. Halfway through the day they were so calm and pleased they did not even attempt to stop Berrybuzz from singing, a true prize for the little Preserver. Here is a fine way to travel! No one bore even a remote thought of turning back.  
  
The hours passed lazily, and when the day was half-gone, they stood before the Vastdeep Water.  
  
As one, the ten stopped and held their breath.  
  
The slight was glorious, enchanting. Those who lived in the Holt for the eons past have already seen the ocean once or twice, but always from the cliffs, never from the sandy shores of the west of the new land. The sight and its impact could not have differed more. The blue-white surface was directly before them, everywhere, endless. Nothing but water as far as the eye could see, and the golden hues of the shore. Eerie silence broken only by seagulls' cries and crashing of waves, the sunlight reflecting off the water, making it twinkle playfully. The rich salty scent and stingy taste of the air assaulted the senses. Look as one might, there was only the ocean to see. Boundless, perfect blue above and below.  
  
Moments passed slowly. They stood gaping, a sense of awe almost religious in nature drowning all their thoughts.  
  
Then Tyleet gave a short shriek and burst out laughing as she ran to tackle the waves. Dewshine and Skot were instantly speeding after her, then Pike, Krim and Aroree. They leaped into the cool, reviving water, splashed and giggled like little cubs, thrusting each other's heads under the water and shouting as they celebrated this astonishing new place. With wordless cries of simple bliss, even the normally stoic Venka and Scouter joined their friends in the shallow water. The whole scene was simply too mind-boggling, too big to do anything but laugh and embrace it.  
  
Skywise and Tyldak exchanged glances. The former smiled.  
  
"Isn't it wonderful? *Isn't it??*"  
  
"Say the same when we have to cross it, I dare you!" the Glider replied nervously.  
  
"Oh, yes, but we don't have to cross it right now, do we?" leaving Tyldak to chew on that, the stargazer gave a wild howl and hurried after his companions. Halfway through he stumbled on a hole in the sand and fell face first into the water. Cautiously he stuck out his tongue and gulped a bit.  
  
"Pfaugh! Salty!" he erupted, spitting. Venka looked back and smiled.  
  
"Did you not smell?" She asked. Skywise nodded and shrugged, and her expression took on a compassionate note. "And you still had to find out for sure. I like that about you, bright-hair."  
  
"Better me trying than Tyleet, eh?" He teased and pounced her, and both ended soaked, but what did that matter? The sun was high and warm; the day was long yet. There was time for exploring and for fun and games both. There was time enough.  
  
Almost a full hour passed before they were all shuffling back to the shore, panting and spitting foul water, their clothes and hair soaked, a childish gleam in their eyes and innocent joy on their faces. They collapsed on the sparkling sand and let the soft beams of the sun dry them, and for another long, silent while simply stared at the distant horizon.  
  
All their fear was washed away by the waves.  
  
The golden orb shining high in the sky was beginning to turn a red shade and edge downward when Skywise finally rose. Feeling a strange discomfort, he studied himself, then the rest, and chuckled. The salt dried on and the sand stuck to their skin. He had never seen so many Elves in such a complete and hopeless mess. He liked what he saw.  
  
He then returned his gaze to the water. Terrible realization dawned on him.  
  
"We'll have to cross it," he whispered.  
  
That attracted attention from the mesmerized group. Scouter's head snapped back and his brown eyes went wide. "What?!"  
  
As mutterings not barely hushed rose, he and Venka leaped from the sand to face the stargazer.  
  
"We can't cross it," the sorceress intoned sternly. "It's huge and deep and we can't swim that far."  
  
Skywise folded his arms in defiance, "we did cross it, in the Palace. Tyldak crossed it."  
  
"We can't fly like the Palace, or Tyldak, for the matter. I won't grow myself wings just for this even if I could."  
  
"We'll find another way."  
  
They looked unconvinced. Aroree and the Go-Backs were peeking over their shoulders, clearly bewildered, looking at him in search of answers.  
  
He rolled his eyes in a long, exaggerated motion. "Honestly, now, you didn't really think we were going to stop here, did you?"  
  
"We didn't know," Skot shortly answered. "We thought there was dry land all the way."  
  
Skywise gritted his teeth and didn't think about his reply. "Troll dung. You lived in the New Holt eight eight eights of turns. You mean to tell me you've never bothered to explore around?"  
  
"Things change in so long a time," Aroree said evenly. The other four hastily nodded.  
  
"Not all things," he was slowly coming against a dead end and he knew it. Argue as they may, in the end, it didn't matter who was right. They had to cross the Vastdeep Water and he hadn't the slightest idea how. All he knew was that they had to. He would not go back to the Holt now and be able to ever look Cutter in the eyes again.  
  
"We can walk along the shore a while and see if there's a way across," Scouter said in a soft, pacifying voice Skywise didn't expect from him. "But if there's not, we'll just have to – "  
  
"Ooh, *curses on all your heads!*" Tyldak's voice was an angry, hoarse shout that made the five Elves flinch and move back. Coming to stand behind Skywise, the Glider towered over them all, his large eyes gleaming dangerously. In a wide and violent motion he indicted the water with his healthy wing and glared down at them. "This will stop you? This puddle I've crossed with one broken wing? You… miserable… *humans!* The slightest difficulty and you start groveling as if the sky's falling. So you don't know what to do, why not try instead of turn back? Why not think??"  
  
"Skywise, everyone! Come and see!" calling from the distance Pike broke what promised to become a painful fight. All else forgotten at the thrill clear in his voice, they hurried toward where he, Tyleet and Dewshine were inspecting a strange object tossed ashore by the waves. It was wooden and looked light, with a bizarre elliptic shape to it, concave bottom and smooth sides, and swayed gently when Pike poked it hard, but didn't show any signs of sinking.  
  
"Look, Skywise," the Howlkeeper said reverently, "it floats."  
  
The others encircled the find, frowning, jabbing and fingering. They've never seen its like, and didn't trust it one bit. It wasn't Elf-made, not the loving work of a Tree-shaper, but made of dead wood cut to pieces, and it was a trifle crumbling in places, eaten by the waves. It confused them and they didn't mind showing their confusion. In the past, they've encountered stranger things to be sure, from Two-Edge's armory to the Great Egg of Blue Mountain, but never anything that was so plainly simple and yet so very alien in sight, touch and smell.  
  
Skot made a face. "It smells funny."  
  
"Smells of salt and humans," Scouter said casually, he and Dewshine the only ones unmoved. "They make those things, I've seen them. It's for riding the river."  
  
Skywise blinked. "Riding… the river?"  
  
Dewshine nodded without thinking. "That's how Bearclaw called it. They put these things on the water, sit in them and ride the river. It's like swimming without getting wet."  
  
That led to a number of conversations all starting up at once. Most of the group had a hard time believing one can swim without getting wet or that something as light as the so-called river-rider can carry tall humans. They offered a dozen alternatives from magic to a human trick and went as far as speculating the water may be hardening beneath the thing to become solid ground. In the general chaos, no one noticed when Skywise and Tyldak exchanged mischievous glances. The former's eyes twinkled meaningfully; the Glider shrugged. As one, they climbed the arching sides of Pike's prize and stumbled into the curved space between them. Rising to his feet and shaking his head to clear it, the stargazer blinked rapidly. He expected them to sink at once. They didn't.  
  
"Hey…" he muttered, then called out. "Hey! Look! Look at us!!"  
  
Alarmed despite the joy in his voice, they turned, and their mouths fell open. The two Elves stood on the river-rider easily, stable, calm and laughing with the pure delight of discovery. The strange object rocked slightly and sank a bit, but they were both still perfectly dry.  
  
"Look at us!" Skywise cheered as his companions stared, unbelieving. Aroree gave a small shriek of fright, but he merely smiled at her. "This is the answer! It's big enough for all of us, and it can carry us across the Vastdeep Water and we won't even have to get our toes wet. This is it!"  
  
"Get out of there, you crazy cub!" Scouter yelled, holding Dewshine and Tyleet back. "It's a man-thing, what do you think you're doing?!" But the rest of the travelers all but hollered in excitement and rushed into the shallow water around the river-rider, as it was swiftly named, prodding and patting and marveling. The stargazer and Glider seemed to be standing on the water from the distance, but up close it was very obvious that the bottom of their find was solid, smooth to the touch and holding up their weight easily. It didn't even creak as weak branches would. After a few minutes of awed toying with the thing that eventually made it shake hard enough to send Tyldak stumbling to the wet inner surface, Skot gathered enough courage to grab for the pointed front and hurl himself in.  
  
"Wow!" He gasped. "It really does – oh puckernuuuuts…!"  
  
Making the Elves yelp and jump backwards, the river-rider swung hard and flipped upside down, throwing the unfortunate three who boarded it into the water and remaining toppled, covering them. For a moment there was stunned silence, interrupted only by the splashing of water, and then Krim started to laugh, and with her the entire group.  
  
Coughing and sputtering salty water, Skywise and Tyldak flung the heavy bulk aside and glared at their companions with resentment. They were both completely wet, and worse, confused. Skot sat somewhere farther, moaning and holding his aching head where it banged on the river-rider's hard side. At the sight of them, the laughter only grew louder.  
  
"Cross the Vastdeep Water with that, why don't you?" Pike said gleefully. Tyleet nodded, her smile stretching form ear to ear, it seemed.  
  
"It's got a hole in it, silly Skywise. You should have seen! But we can fix it all right, just like the humans could, and then we can all fall off it together!" she winked one fair green eye, and Skywise at last joined the laughter.  
  
Venka, who stood with Scouter apart from the group, didn't laugh, and the puzzlement was evident in her cool voice as she asked. "Fix it? How? We don't even know how humans build it. How would we know what to do?"  
  
Skywise straightened, self-conscious about his damp hair and matted clothes, but determined to look authoritative despite them. "We'll try till we've learned."  
  
"It threw me off!" Skot yelled from the shallow water. Krim snickered as she went to help him up.  
  
"It's still a man-thing, Skywise," Scouter's tone was dreadfully serious. Aroree and Venka, clearly mistrustful of the new idea, nodded, but Tyleet gave a snort.  
  
"We'll make it an Elf-thing, then!" She snapped, raising her head in defiance. Skywise couldn't help but chuckle at the look on Scouter's face. Determined and businesslike, the redheaded Elf hurried to turn over the river-rider, closely inspecting the hole in its bottom. Tyldak rushed to her aid and soon they were both grunting in effort as they dragged their find ashore. The stargazer was surprised at the thought that the two of them were getting more enthusiastic than him. Frowning at that, he was instantly with them by the river-rider, tracing a finger on the sleek edges of the gap. His companions were huddled whispering and muttering, still unsure what to make of this bold new plan, but they were all listening, awaiting his verdict eagerly.  
  
Tyleet's eyes narrowed as her mind raced. "It's made of chunks of wood stuck together somehow, you see? Something took one of them out."  
  
"Yes, but can we find a new one?" Skywise wondered.  
  
"We may not have to," came Tyldak's voice from somewhere behind them. Turning, they saw him kneeling deeper inside the water, reaching for something on the bottom. His wing-hand was ill equipped for gripping, but finally, as Skywise and Tyleet stared, he managed to pull out a large, straight-lined bit of wood with one talon. The two of them were instantly disappointed – the missing piece was rotten and full of holes.  
  
The Glider sighed and dropped the useless thing, causing a massive splash. He winced away. "Ow! Good thing I'm already drenched! But that thing won't be helpful, would it?"  
  
Skywise shook his head sadly, but Tyleet perked.  
  
"Wait!" she cried, "we can make a new one! We can, if we know what it should be like!"  
  
The Glider didn't seem to understand, but Skywise's mind was already gathering speed. Make a new one? And why not? Working wood was certainly not a new thing to the Elves who didn't always have a Tree-shaper in their midst. Truth be told, they have forgotten some since Redlance's powers surfaced, but one can always relearn, one can always try…  
  
It dawned on him like the sun, so simple and obvious. Make a new one, what else?  
  
'How sharp this one's mind is', he thought in wonderment as he studied Tyleet. He had never noticed her brilliance back in the Holt. Then again, none of them had a chance for much brilliance when life was so peaceful and obvious. But that mattered no longer. They'll revive every lost skill, every forgotten art, every sleeping bit of courage and creativity in the quest.  
  
He nodded, smiling, and Tyleet beamed. Tyldak muttered something about never drying up, but he did bent to fish out the missing piece again. As the redheaded Elf turned back to the river-rider with the intent of finding out what held it together, Skywise climbed wearily to the shore and faced his companions, prepared to talk them into yet another insane feat.  
  
"It'll be easy," he said in his most convincing voice. They returned his gaze with a disheartened one – all save Pike, who still ravished his prize from afar. "We'll just replace that missing chunk and be on our way. It won't turn over when it's whole."  
  
"How would you know?" Skot asked drably. Krim elbowed him hard in the ribs and grinned at Skywise. Venka seemed suspicious, but even Scouter was beginning to mellow.  
  
"There's only one problem," he pointed out. "Rivers move on their own, the Vastdeep Water don't. How will we make it go where we want?"  
  
Skywise's jaw fell and his shoulders slumped. 'Stupid!'  
  
Aroree gave a little giggle, barely audible. Annoyed, the stargazer crossed his arms and glared at her. "You have an idea we don't, I take it?"  
  
"Tyldak knows," she answered, smiling mysteriously.  
  
Skywise nodded gravely. If Aroree was being enigmatic, it couldn't be good. But Krim wasted no time  
  
"Hey, bird-Elf!" She called, "Moon-eyes here says you know how to make this thing travel if the water don't! What's the big secret?"  
  
Tyldak, who had just thrown the long, straight piece of wood missing from the river-rider on the shore, looked up and frowned at Aroree. Still chuckling, her eyes narrowed slightly as she sent, and the winged Elf's expression immediately lit up. Even Dewshine was surprised – she had never seen him so delighted, as if some long-forgotten joyful memory was suddenly reawakened, reviving an old sparkle in his shadowy eyes. He spoke quickly, in an outburst of excitement.  
  
"You want to make it go? Here's what you do: you turn to the wind. The wind is everywhere, it's strong, it's dependable. Eons ago in Blue Mountain, the children who couldn't glide used to stretch thin leather over a frame of sticks and hung onto it as they jumped off the Cliffside. The wind would take them far and set them safely down. I would know, I invented that game." He nodded at the river-rider, "stick two poles in the middle, tie some animal's pelt between them, and that thing will move better than on the river, wherever the wind may take it."  
  
Moments passed in deep thought. Dewshine quietly said: "It sounds dangerous. We've never done anything like it. Elves weren't meant to ride water…"  
  
"Oh, and were Elves meant to fly?" Tyldak snapped a little too harshly for comfort.  
  
"It's not the same," Scouter resorted. Some of the others were nodding in agreement. "It's not… natural, all these things, all this planning, building, changing. Humans do that. Elves should be content with magic and the Way."  
  
Skywise gave a bitter snort. "And that's why humans hunt us and cage us and drive us into the woods while they rule over the land. It's been more than four times eight the number of turns you waited for the Palace since the Firstcomers arrived. Humans have the whole world for themselves and we're still sleeping in the dust. We could learn a few things from the humans."  
  
"Don't push it, stargazer," Skot grunted.  
  
That was the final straw. Feeling angry fire flash deep inside him again, Skywise spun to face the Go-Back. Even without one drop of Wolf blood, his anger flared in a low growl and the quick baring of teeth. He had had enough of them all. Mad as these new ideas may be, they may also be their only choice, and he wouldn't have them stopping now. 'We've gone this far…!' "Pushing it, am I? So it's below you to travel as a human, how convenient, why don't we just give up the whole quest?"  
  
Skot blinked and backed away somewhat, clearly confused by the stargazer's unexpected, rough display of authority. Suddenly aware of the discomfort, even fear in his companions' eyes, Skywise all but forced himself to relax. He had gone too far. The progress they made in the short day filled him with determination, he was certain nothing could stand in their paths, and here came this terrible new challenge and toppled his firm sureness of their success. With a pang of frustration he realized that those things he found magnificent and inspiring, the challenges he joyously embraced were for them sources of fear and doubt, the new ideas he reveled in were pure insanity or mortal danger. They wanted the quest as much as he did – but they were frightened of the discoveries he loved.  
  
'And can I blame them? I dream and my dreams urge me forward, and the rest of them can but follow with only cold reality ahead…'  
  
He studied his nervous followers. The new understanding made him see the fear, the uncertainty in their eyes. He was no longer angry. He couldn't be.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I got carried away." They nodded at that, still stunned, and he bowed his head in surrender before continuing. "I can't force you to do this. If you think it's too dangerous, we'll find another way…"  
  
He didn't expect the silence; it made him fear the worst, wonder if maybe they really did think to abandon the quest and turn back. It lasted but a few moments and already Skywise was clenching his fists to avoid betraying his distress. Let them speak, even if not in his favor, just let them speak already!  
  
He couldn't help but vaguely wonder if this will be the look of things every time they run into something new. He's faced one such uprising and won the day before, but for how long can he keep on winning?  
  
Yet he did not utter another word – he had his say, now it was up to them to decide.  
  
So why won't they *talk?*  
  
"We can find another way…" he muttered again desperately.  
  
"Skywise," Venka said softly, "there is no other way."  
  
"Then we turn back?"  
  
"Don't be silly," Tyleet snapped.  
  
No voices rose to counter that statement. Surprised, Skywise hesitantly looked up. His companions' faces were somber, the faces of those who fought a hard inner battle and reached a harder resolution.  
  
"What's the other choice…?" he whispered.  
  
As he looked and waited, eyes locked and meaningful gazes were exchanged, small nods, relieved smiles, dark sighs. He knew their answer, but wanted to hear them say it.  
  
"We try," Scouter answered, "and hope for the best."  
  
The weight of the world was lifted from the stargazer's shoulder at those simple words. Trying was all he asked for. Careful not to smile too widely, as he knew they were all still frightened and uncomfortable, he straightened and with one sweeping glance realized they were all waiting for him to tell them what to do next. Dread mixed with the pride. He knew what to do, didn't he? It should work. Everything was so simple now that he let it be…  
  
"Right then! We'll need a large piece of wood. Scouter, Venka and Dewshine, see if you can find a tree the storm knocked down."  
  
"Who died and made you chief?" Venka muttered under her breath, but the two lovemates gave her a friendly scoff and hurried away into the woods. The storm was a wild one and there was every chance they'll find a fallen trunk. Somewhere inside her, Dewshine found herself wondering what they might have to do if one won't be found. She didn't think Skywise would go as far as asking them to cut down a tree… even though humans would…  
  
'No – this far and no more! Inventiveness I will take from the humans… not lust for destruction!'  
  
Back on the shore, completely oblivious to his friend's misgivings, Skywise was starting to immensely enjoy the new task.  
  
"What holds that thing together, Tyleet?"  
  
The redheaded Elf, who was dreamily staring at thin air, perked. "Huh? Oh! Some bits of metal stuck right inside the wood. I found some more. If only we can figure out how to get them in…"  
  
Skywise smiled, happily thinking she should know better than to have doubt in her voice by now. "We will, I assure you."  
  
It was getting dark, but the darkness was welcome and familiar, a friend to night-sighted, sneaky hunting Elves. In the old, loving darkness they will complete their task and be ready to brave the new danger by morning. The stargazer then turned to the Go-Backs, who were busy virtually dragging Pike away from the river-rider.  
  
"Krim, Skot, take your Dreamberry pile of a lifemate and get some big animal for its pelt. A particularly large stripehide will do nicely… we could use two, but without Moonshade…"  
  
"I could work leather, once… a little," Aroree chimed in quietly. Her lovemate smiled at her warmly.  
  
"You'd remember saying! Good, then two stripehides. We'll eat well tonight."  
  
"Ayooooah! To the hunt!" Pike cheered, throwing a fist into the air. He and his lifemates were gone to their bloody business instantly, racing each other to the cool greenery of the forest, where game was plentiful and a hunter was at home.  
  
Tyleet, for her part, drew a knife and began trying to lodge the strange, small metal pieces into the water-eaten log fished from the depth. They bent, slipped and broke. Her eyes narrowed in frustration and angry defiance. She struggled to think, analyze and find a solution. Challenges such as this were rare to come by and she enjoyed them endlessly. Soon she found that when holding the small rods between two fingers as she worked with the other hand, and banging on them continuously instead of simply pressing, things got much easier. Pride and relief made her smile. Every problem has an answer, every trail can be conquered, one must only think, try and never despair.  
  
With the shore empty of the working Elves, Skywise nodded to himself and silent satisfaction. Looking around, he caught sight of Aroree waiting patiently for her own task, and sitting next to her Tyldak was clearly upset, staring away at the faraway blue horizon. He was by them instantly.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I could have helped," the angered Glider replied. "Not with the hunt, maybe, but I've seen how dangerous the woods are after dark. I should have gone with Dewshine…"  
  
At that Skywise could do nothing but burst out laughing, despite Tyldak's wounded glare. "Gone with Dewshine? Much good you'll do her, with that wing and not trained at all. Goodtree's rest! Next we'd be sending Redlance off to war! No, I need you here, you and your crazy brilliant Glider's head. How does that wind trick of yours work? We'll need to know everything if we use it."  
  
That seemed to comfort the winged Elf somewhat, and soon he and Skywise were huddled over a patch of wet sand craving in it strange, clumsy diagrams of the device they intended to construct. Looking on, Aroree smiled. She understood what the stargazer was trying to do. They both knew that once the thrill of the quest was gone and the rush of action was over, there would be nothing left to shake Tyldak out of the morbid apathy he sank in since first arriving in the Holt. She didn't mind the least that it fell to her and Skywise to keep him from sinking deeper. After eight eight eights of turns she still sometimes missed Blue Mountain, in her loneliest nights and quietest moments, and anyone of her own kind was as welcome as water in the desert.  
  
She knew well what it was like to lose someone who meant the world to her. She wouldn't have her friend of old suffering as she had.  
  
Time passed quietly. When the sun was completely gone Pike and the Go-Backs returned triumphant, carrying the bodies of two enormous stripehides both killed from well-targeted arrows, their pelts undamaged. They lay them on the sand and left the messy mission of skinning to Tyleet, who perfected her hammering technique and was gleefully presenting it to a satisfied Skywise. Scouter's party found a suitable tree and was huffing under its weight back to the shore just as the first shares of the meat were cut. Soon every Elf was fed and rested and ready for the strange work that awaited them. Solemn and quiet, they were ready to find every flaw, danger or impossibility, but soon found to their amazement they were actually doing well, and they were enjoying what they did. The newness of it all appealed to some of them, some others were simply happy to be doing something practical, and yet others found the task itself pleasing.  
  
Venka and Tyleet found themselves to be of the latter. They were fixing a large branch to the bottom of the river-rider and soon decided working with the metal bits and the polished wood was a fulfilling and interesting work. The sorceress found herself wondering why she was so uneasy with the prospect in the first place – it was bizarre, yes, it was new, and she had never done its like, but she never thought she'd end up liking it.  
  
'Have I been stupid? I was so sure it must be hard and risky…'  
  
"Oww! Owl pellets!" Tyleet's yelp and curse shattered her friend's train of thoughts. The redheaded Elf managed, through a unique talent of a sort, to bring the knife's handle down hard on her fingers and was now suckling on them with an angry pout. Venka smiled to herself; not that risk-free after all. "We should have brought more magic users along – father would have had this done before you could say 'strange new ideas'!"  
  
"And Skywise, wind and rain take him, would have insisted we do it like this anyway," Dewshine chimed in, smiling as she approached them carrying one end of another long, thick branch. On the other end, Krim was marveling at the two's handiwork.  
  
"You cubs got this thing in place?" she said in clear astonishment. "Next thing you know, we'll actually be across the Vastdeep Water!"  
  
"Never say never!" Venka laughed, and Tyleet gave a giggle that turned into a shriek as she once again missed the metal in favor of her hand.  
  
A few feet away, Tyldak finally looked up from the countless lines and holes it took to make Skywise understand exactly what they were building and allowed himself the briefest of smiles at the little exchange. The stargazer had finally been able to place all the details, leaving his friend to stare at the wet sand, where the very essence of a long forgotten childhood was slowly being erased by the waves.  
  
A sudden, overwhelming feeling of loneliness washed over the Glider.  
  
Yet before it has a chance to fully register, he frowned and glanced sideways in surprise, noticing the sound of soft humming. Bent over her leathers, Aroree was singing quietly to herself an old, familiar tune. Thinking she may welcome it, he came to settle by her, joining her in the ancient song they both remembered after millennia. His low, passionate voice melded with her light bellchime one to create a strange sort of harmony:  
  
  
  
"Vast is the sky and the stars are calling  
  
Bright are the moons and the infinite black  
  
Lone is the traveler waiting for morning  
  
Thousands of old lights are calling me back  
  
Let it be, stars – let it be, moonlight  
  
Call as you may but I cannot reply  
  
Fly as my soul might, here is my home now  
  
I will no longer look to the sky  
  
Vast is the sky – and memories beckon  
  
Fair are the twinkling stars that once were mine  
  
My soul longs for them, but my body is earth-bound  
  
I will not heed their sweet call as they shine  
  
Let it be, night sky – let it be, old home  
  
Here I am now and here I shall remain  
  
I will not live for hopes long forgotten  
  
And never long for the bright stars again…"  
  
  
  
The song had them almost spellbound, drawn to its deep, intoxicating melody as if by some ancient magic. But as Aroree carried on mindlessly into the third verse, something seemed to scream and come to a violent halt in Tyldak's mind. What for all the High Ones was he doing, singing that double cursed song of surrender?  
  
"I'm *not* singing that," he said in sudden disgust.  
  
Aroree looked up in surprise.  
  
"It's a good song, a good, old song." she said simply, looking back to the stubborn leathers. "We used to sing it all the time, when we were young…"  
  
He gave a snort of contempt. "Have you ever listened to the words?"  
  
"I know them by heart."  
  
"But have you ever *listened?*"  
  
Frowning, Aroree opened her mouth to reply, but stopped before speaking. Her eyes widened and she dropped the skin she was tanning. "High Ones… you're right…"  
  
He said nothing more, looked away to the endless water that were a bright black laced with silver under the light of the two moons. She smiled faintly in the way of apology.  
  
"We weren't too smart when we were young."  
  
"You were a Floater, I can't blame you."  
  
"And you were a jealous brat."  
  
"Worse," he shook his head, looked down. "I was a daydreaming jealous brat."  
  
With all her honest desire to make him feel better, she could find no answer to that. Her thoughts drifted back as she tanned the still warm skin, back to Blue Mountain, back to the cliffs and hatcheries, the broad rooms, high ceilings and tall stone walls. She could barely grasp onto the memories. So long ago, when her and Tyldak were a wild, mischievous pair of ever-scheming best friends without the weight time burdened on them both. She tried to cling onto the sense of innocence she once felt, back then. Everything was simple, everything was safe and friendly, nothing had any consequence; at the end of the day, whatever havoc wreaked would be forgotten, and there would still be warm beds and good meals for them both. When did life become so unforgiving?  
  
Aroree glanced sideways at the winged Elf, who was watching her tanning hands intently. So strange, that misshapen body of his… of course, she knew it to be so, but as it was with the song, she always saw, but she never really noticed. When he was… changed, she had been among the Chosen Eight for great many turns and they have already drifted considerably apart. His fate wasn't great enough a concern for her to ever really see what was done to him.  
  
She found herself abruptly wondering when that changed.  
  
She failed to register it when his large eyes flicked back to her face.  
  
"That interesting, am I?" he drawled.  
  
Aroree stiffened. There was a hidden note of offense in the question to be sure. What he was really asking was since when did she found him interesting.  
  
"How do you feel?" she asked simply.  
  
Tyldak made a face. "I hurt in places I didn't know existed. But I do suppose after enough dragging and scraping on the ground, one's legs become short enough for comfort."  
  
The Floater couldn't help but chuckle. "And the wing…?"  
  
At once, he looked away. Aroree bit down hard on her lower lip. She should not have asked, should never have mentioned it. The slightest push and he'll be caught in the spiral again now, downward, farther out of the reach of her, of Skywise, of anyone. 'No – don't! Don't let go! I've grown tired of lonely nights, and you have so much to live for…!'  
  
"T-there's… still pain…" she glanced up sharply at the sound of his voice. He was looking at her again. There was some strange, obsessive plea in his gaze, some painful need bordering on tears. He was seeking support, comfort, friendship, help against the raging waves of despair. He was fighting but could not fight alone. "It…helps, keeping it still, but… I… don't suppose it will ever… really get any better…"  
  
It occurred to her she could make an empty promise and tell him everything will turn out for the best. But she did not. There were many people she could so blatantly lie to and remain uncaught, but Tyldak had never been among them.  
  
Wordlessly she moved until she could put one soft hand on the strange talon that remained of his. Wordlessly he lay his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. She heard his ragged breath ease, and a fleeting memory rose in her mind of so long ago. They were but small children, not yet ten turns of age, and she had had a rough landing and hurt her back and was too proud to ask for healing. He let her fall asleep on his shoulder until she felt better.  
  
Aroree smiled to herself and resumed tanning. Some things simply do not change.  
  
Farther away from the water, Skywise stood and looked over the entire scene before him and a smile of exhausted satisfaction crept onto his lips. Here Tyleet and Venka were clearly enjoying themselves fixing the sail. There, Scouter and Dewshine joked and flirted while working the wood. Pike was weaving wild tales for Skot and Krim around a fire. Even Aroree and poor Tyldak seemed at peace. For a while, the serenity of the Holt and the fire of adventure coexisted. And even if it was only the briefest of moments, he'll treasure it.  
  
They sailed at dawn.  
  
The work lasted half the night, yet the sun had not yet risen when before them stood their handiwork whole and beautiful. The river-rider, the "boat" as Scouter said, was repaired and cleaned, a sail set proudly within it, flailing slightly in the wind. Washed in the waves, it glittered in the moonlight. It was perfect, and come morning, it would carry them all on an adventure they could barely begin to imagine. There was a sense of fulfillment hanging in the air when they settled to sleep away whatever remained of the night.  
  
Skywise, Tyldak and Tyleet were unable to sleep, simply too excited and eager. They spent the last few hours before dawn swapping stories around the fire, drinking themselves silly and more than anything, laughing and admiring the night sky. They could not recall when they last felt so alive.  
  
Morning rose hesitant, as if unsure what is expected of this strange new day when strange new things be done. The Elves woke slowly, not without reluctance, and set to the final tasks left before leaving the shore – for how long, they did not know. They spent a short while renewing their supplies, not sure what food, if any, can be found in the Vastdeep Water, then turned to the sad duty of bidding their wolf-friends farewell. The boat had room enough for ten small-bodied Elves, but not for ten large, impatient wolves that were still very suspicious of its smell, though by now it mostly shared the gentle forest-like smell of its finders. That last fact comforted the group somewhat. The thing they were about to trust their lives to no longer seemed alien. It was theirs, they made it theirs, but the wolves had simpler, rougher worldviews.  
  
"You stay out of trouble, Bristlebrush, the Holt is just a day's walk away," Scouter said with hearty sorrow as he petted the loyal animal's muzzle. Hotburr refused to accept Pike's apology and merely stormed off into the woods. Aroree gave a hard glance to Tyldak, who dismissed his less than cooperative mount without bothering to hide his relief.  
  
Skywise kneeled before Timmain, gently stroking her perfect white fur. She licked his face in her own manner of quiet wolf affection.  
  
"You've taken me this far, High One," he whispered, thoughtful. "But this is my road to walk, now."  
  
One moment he waited, as if expecting her trademark motherly and bizarre sending to counter his words, but no reply came. Head held low, he stood up and walked away. Timmain gave a short yip, then turned and led the nine other wolves into the shadow of the trees, back home.  
  
Breathing deeply, the stargazer straightened and looked back on his followers, whose eyes were all fixed on the immense surface of water they now had to brave. That was it, then – from now on, no wolf-friends, no way of sending a call back to the Holt, no support, nothing. From this moment on, it was just them.  
  
He'd have it no other way.  
  
But he could see the anxiety building on their faces again, the uncertainty, the nagging desire to go back where things were safe and sure. A heaviness landed on him out of nowhere, as if he'd spent his joy the night before and was now left only with the doubt. For the first time, he felt fear.  
  
They looked at him for guidance. Again. He smiled.  
  
The sun was climbing highly in the sky now. Scouter, Skot and Krim pushed the boat on the golden sands and into the water that sparkled and shone and glowed green and blue in the light of the early morning. Soon it sat in the shallow water, swaying gently and waiting to be boarded.  
  
It took the ten travelers some time to understand just how they could sit inside without making the boat flip over. Skywise deducted it had to do with size, but it was Venka's discovery that the weight had to be distributed evenly. Very quickly they learned they had better not stand or walk inside, but were still all very wet when settling comfortably, ready for the trip. Tyleet got the honor of raising the sail, and the wing puffed it and carried them away, far, beyond.  
  
Thus began one of the strangest experiences even the oldest and most traveled of them could remember having.  
  
The first day had gone by relatively uneventful. The sun was high and kind, though the sky was getting cloudier as the hours passed, and there was sure to be rain again the following morning. The boat went with the wind that did not change its direction, blowing westward, away from their home shore and to what lay on the other side of the Vastdeep Water. Exactly where they were headed, they had no way to know, but they had a good feeling that they were making progress. The very fact that they were still traveling was miraculous.  
  
Skywise was happy to discover the Lodestone still worked well, and its fixed edges allowed him to find out they were indeed heading one direction. The real surprise, however, came when he realized this was actually opposite of the direction that took them to the new land so many turns ago. They were headed home! Back to their old land, back to the familiar world of the Sun-Village, the Forbidden Grove, the Frozen Mountains. He still delved on fond memories of that other place. Consulting Tyldak, who of all the Elves seemed to retain his sense of direction despite the fact that there was nothing to be seen but water, he determined they were on the right track. Breaking the news to the ensemble cheered them immensely.  
  
"Let all the dangers of the Vastdeep Water come, I'll conquer them with my own hands!" Skot declared. Tyleet and Krim laughed and nodded. "Back to the old land! Why haven't we ever done this before?"  
  
"No one before had as much sense as our Skywise," Dewshine said fondly, ruffling the blushing stargazer's hair. "High Ones know I'll never doubt your words again!"  
  
"There is a difference between trusting and never doubting," Venka pointed out. "We aren't across yet. Who knows what might happen on the way?"  
  
Pike gave a snort and settled back, leaning his head on his crossed arms and smiling at the sun. "Aw, you worry too much! We'll get across just fine, you'll see!"  
  
"And if we don't, just promise Pike Dreamberries and he'll swim the rest of the way!" Tyleet said lightly, and ten voices rang out in laughter.  
  
Time passed lazily after that, and they did not speak much. The sun, the boat's gentle rocking and the still air made them sleepy and they stretched as best they could and stared up at the perfect blue heavens. Skywise sang:  
  
  
  
"I sing the song of open sky  
  
And space to roam from dusk till dawn  
  
The grass is green, the sun is high  
  
Far, so far away from home  
  
We strive to go, to seek, to find  
  
To leave the old and known behind  
  
The stars above there shine to guide  
  
Onward, o the pack!"  
  
  
  
Everywhere around them was the water – rich blue-green, flat but for small waves that raised hints of white to the surface, playing games with the sunlight. Sparkled danced like fireflies in the night over the dark of the water, like gemstones, as if thousands of bright eyes were winking from the water. There was not a single cloud in the sky; it was as blue as the sea and the two blues merged far in the smudged line of the horizon. Out there, the earth seemed to curve, an unsettling sight for the Elves. They have never seen such an open horizon, always accustomed to the shapes of the trees all around them. In the desert, they learned to know the heavens in all their glory, but never the full beauty, extent and horror of where sea meets sky.  
  
The entire huge space was empty, nothing living within their vision. They were alone in the midst of the Vastdeep water. It wasn't a comforting thought, but the day was smiling. The rushing of the waves was playful and inviting, a healthy sound if any, and one they knew was natural. Closer to the shore were large white birds that shrieked and cawed, but they were gone now. Finally there was the strong smell of salt assaulting sensitive Elfin noses, and the occasional splatter of water, causing an eruption of chuckles, when an errant wave decided to get to know the travelers up close.  
  
They occupied themselves the first day making up for lost sleep, wondering at the water and spinning tales. It was then that Skot told the strange and frightening account of Ice-Eye and the Stag, a Go-Back horror story of the kind that sprouted by the dozens in the dark and frozen lodge. He had not Pike's natural skill for storytelling, but honed his ability enough in eight eight eights of turns of being the Howlkeeper's lifemate that the tale was definitely worth the time.  
  
"A long time, now, maybe three eight eights before Kahvi became chieftess, in the greatest white-cold the Frozen Mountains ever knew. It was before the Palace started calling to us, before we called ourselves Go-Backs. That tribe was called Goat-Riders, and the chief then was Ice-Eye, until he died. The tale of how was told in many different ways since. As I said, this happened when not even my sire's father was born.  
  
"This is the story of Ice-Eye's last white-cold, when he met the stag. I don't know if it's real, but my mother used to say you'd better believe it. You never know what you'll learn.  
  
"As I said, it was the greatest white-cold ever heard of in the Frozen Mountains. There was ice everywhere and nothing but ice. Not deer, not trees, not even ground squirrels. The Lodge was frozen shut, and inside all those who haven't starved to death yet were sitting all day around the fire trying to keep warm, none too successfully. The cold was bad but the hunger was worse. Ice-Eye was just a cub then, maybe of three eights of turns, so when they came to him and told him the tribe couldn't go on, he didn't know what to do.  
  
"Ice-Eye, young and helpless as he was, went out of the Lodge and tried to hunt for food. He tried to dig for squirrels in their holes, but only froze his hands. Then with frostbitten fingers, he fell down a slope and couldn't climb back up. As he sat there in the snow, worried only about his tribe rather than his own fate, he saw a shape in the distance.  
  
"It was a stag, a big, pretty, healthy stag, and its pelt was like the clouds in summer, light and soft and bright. It came near Ice-Eye carelessly and licked him. He lifted a stone from the ground and slammed the stag's head, but his fingers were so weak he couldn't really injure it. He gave up and closed his eyes, and when he did, he felt the stag sending to him.  
  
"*(Little Elf, you are cold, and hungry,) the stag sent.  
  
"*(I struck you not because I was hungry,) answered Ice-Eye, who was by now so cold he didn't seem to mind the idea of a sending stag. (I struck you because my tribe must be fed. I must feed them, for I am chief.)  
  
"*(For your tribe?) sent the stag, seeming interested. (I forgive you, then, little Elf, and I shall do more. I will find food for your tribe, all that you wish. But for that, I shall need you to give me your eyes.)  
  
"Ice-Eye was cold and hungry and exhausted, and now very frightened of the stag, as you probably guessed. But the memory of the little cubs hungry in the Lodge came back to him, so he took his eyes in his hands and gave them to the stag. The large animal raised its head and ran away into the snow.  
  
"It took the young chief a long time to get back to the Lodge without his eyes, but when he did arrive, he was overjoyed to find the tribe feasting on many fine foods. He was very grateful to the stag, though no one believed him when he told about it.  
  
"About two eights of days later, when Ice-Eye learned to go around well without his eyes, there was a terrible frost. The bitter hunger of before was nothing compared to the cold that now struck the Lodge, killing the cubs and ailing the elder. Not even a fire could ease the tribe's suffering. Again, they went to Ice-Eye, and he went out of the Lodge and went to search for a better shelter.  
  
"On the way, he suddenly stopped. In the distance, he heard the sound of hooves on snow. Ice-Eye sniffed the air, and realized that before him stood the stag with the cloud pelt. It licked him fondly.  
  
"*(What ails you, little Elf?) it asked.  
  
"*(My tribe suffers from the cold,) answered Ice-Eye  
  
"*(I can help,) replied the stag (I will follow the North Wind and ask it to ease its blowing, if only you will give me your ears.)  
  
"Ice-Eye wasn't too happy about that, because he now relied a lot on his ears instead of his eyes. But he thought back of the many sick in the Lodge, and quickly he took his ears and gave them to the stag, which dashed away Northward.  
  
"Without both eyes and ears, Ice-Eye took nearly a day to get back to the Lodge, but his heart was light, because he knew what he will find when he returns. And indeed, the Lodge was warm and lovely and all the sick were cured. The cruel North Wind eased its blowing.  
  
"That repeated itself a few times more. Once many the tribe were struck by illness, and Ice-Eye gave the stag his nose so it can sniff out leaves to cure them. At another time, he had to give the stag his pelt so it would drive away a pack of snow wolves. He gave the stag his hands and feet and eventually had to leave the Lodge because nobody in there could stand the sight of him, so badly maimed he was. And still the white-cold didn't end.  
  
"Then, after maybe five births of the moons, the stag came to Ice-Eye in his own cave.  
  
"*(Your tribe suffers again, little Elf,) the stag said, (but I know a way to assure they will never suffer again. For that, though, you will have to give me your teeth.)  
  
"Ice-Eye thought his teeth, which were clattering and chewed nothing for days, couldn't be such a big sacrifice to make. So he gave the stag his sharp teeth and waited.  
  
"The stag left Ice-Eye in his cave and went into a hole in the snow. It took off its hide and hoofs and eyes and ears, and put on Ice-Eye's eyes and ears and pelt, his hands and feet and nose instead. Then it put Ice- Eye's teeth in its mouth. It went straight to the Lodge and entered, and all the tribe thought it was Ice-Eye, miraculously healed. So they welcomed it in and let it watch the cubs while they were off to hunt.  
  
"Once it was alone with the cubs, the stag did what it intended to do all along. Thanks to it, the cubs were healthy and fat, and the stag bared the teeth it took from Ice-Eye and prepared to feast on them. They ran from the Lodge and sent for help, but the adults were hunting far away, and the only one who caught wind of their cries was Ice-Eye, away in his cave.  
  
"Ice-Eye then dashed out, without eyes, ears or nose he found the stag's snow hole, thinking of the cubs. He found the stag's pelt and its eyes and ears and hoofs, and clad in them he ran to the cubs' aid. He found the stag chasing them, and they fought there, and Ice-Eye killed the stag with its own hard hoofs. Its blood spilled on the snow, and that was when the hunters came back.  
  
"What they saw was Ice-Eye lying dead and a stag standing over him. They didn't know that Ice-Eye gave all the limbs he missed to the cloudpelt stag, they just knew he was dead, and a cloudpelt stag killed him. So they threw their spears at the real Ice-Eye, and fell him next to the creature that stole his image.  
  
"Much later, the frightened cubs told the warriors that the stag was actually saving them, and from here to there they worked out the whole story as it really happened. But the snow already took both Ice-Eye and the stag, and all the tribe ever got back was the knowledge that sometimes one's actions count more than one's looks."  
  
"And of course, not a word of truth in it all," Krim interjected just as Skot was gazing smugly at the expressions of horrid fascination. "There were stories like this popping like mushrooms in the Lodge. I guess even if it was just hunger-madness that made Ice-Eye attack the cubs, we had to make it into something strange. Elves need something to believe in."  
  
When a few hours more had passed, things began to take a turn for the worst. The clouds that have been gathering through the morning and noon obscured the sun and a chilly wind began to blow. For a short while, they were pleased, because they advanced much faster, but soon light rain was falling and the wind made them cold and uncomfortable. At Scouter's suggestion they tied the sail between the top of the poles and the back of the boat, creating a small shelter of a short, and huddled there in turns as to not overload one side. Slowly but surely, waves began to rise and the water turned an unpleasant dark gray shade. The rocking of the boat made most of the miserable travelers ill. They sat cramped and shivering, small bodies pressed together for warmth, and frowned at the world that was so inviting merely hours before.  
  
Lighting erupted in the distance, momentarily lighting the sky in a beautiful flare. Venka, whose hardy Go-Back blood resisted both cold and nausea, lifted her head and counted loudly. She reached three before the thunder rolled. The heart of the storm was close, too close.  
  
"It's almost upon us," she muttered, then looked back to her companions, who gave her embittered glares, none too satisfied with the news. Thinking but a moment, she spoke again. "I wonder, how does the counting tell us how far the heart of the storm is? Do the thunder and lighting know?"  
  
Skywise, who was positively green, smiled faintly and managed to answer. "I often thought about that, but I don't really know… we know it works, but not how, like so many other things. Why do stones fall up and not down? Why can't wolves send? Why does wood burn when metal doesn't? So many things we don't know…"  
  
Scouter, who was lying with his back to them trying to sleep, stirred at that, turned to face the group, looking more confused than sour. "What does it matter? Stones fall and wood burns and wolves don't send, that's just the way things are. Why all the questions?"  
  
"Some simply can't help but asking, Scouter," Aroree said with a smile, fondly stroking the sleeping Tyleet and Tyldak. "That is who they are, dreamers, always seeking more."  
  
Scouter was dimly aware that his reply had more than a hint of cruelty in it, but was truthfully too cold, tired and sick to care. Let the stargazer squirm, it'll do him justice. He huffed. "Rayek sought more, too. You just be careful with your questions, Skywise."  
  
Aroree and Venka gave a start. Skywise's blue eyes widened, he opened his mouth to reply but closed it without making a sound. Scouter span back, drew his robe tightly around himself and fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
**********************  
  
  
  
A gloomy morning rose after that seemingly endless, cold and frightful night. The sunrise on the Vastdeep Water was a magnificent sight, and the few awake to see it did not regret it, despite the biting cold of the early morning hours. Red and purple clouds lay in the distance, covering the horizon like a blanket and making the sky appear half like a flowerbed and half like a killing field. The heaven's stark gray against the blue water, the fiery orb climbing upward, driving the darkness back, away, making room for a new day and whatever it may bring. And all open and visible, no treetops to obscure the view, no mountains or desert hills, a spectacle of light and color on the infinite flat surface begging to be forever cherished.  
  
The storm eased for a while – no more rain and wind, though the clouds stood firm and the cold was still nothing short of cruel. The Elves were grateful; they had grown used to the cold, could live with it, but not so with the seasickness. They cuddled in their robes, sat closely together, and looked out to the horizon, and wondered, and sang, and dreamed.  
  
When the morning was half-gone, Scouter and Krim noticed something in the distance, moving quickly toward the boat, and weren't able to determine what it was. They turned the attention of the others to the streaks of silver coming toward their vessel, and the Elves leaned forward and strained their eyes, trying to understand what they were seeing, until Krim finally cried: "Fish!"  
  
And those were fish, coming at them in a wondrous speed, but completely unlike any of the fish the Wolfriders knew from the streams by their different Holts. Those long and narrow and silvery, and leaped out of the water, hanging in the air a moment before splashing back in. The flock passed on both sides of the boat, leaping up and down as the Elves gazed and marveled, letting out cries of astonished delight at this new sight. The silver bodies sparkled in the sunlight and salty water was sprayed everywhere. Boldly, Tyleet reached out and managed to grab a writhing fish in one hand.  
  
She shouted and burst out laughing, excitedly showing off her catch. Soon all the travelers were snatching fish out of the air, and were so caught up with that fantastic new game that they forgot all about balancing the boat, and Skywise, Dewshine and Pike were sent tumbling into the water. They were having good fun.  
  
Once all were back inside the boat safely and the horde of fish was gone, heading eastward, they took the time to examine their find. The fish were meaty, had a pleasant salty smell, and were also passably palatable. But what was amazing was their unique shape, as bizarre to Elfin eyes as the boat was at first.  
  
"They have wings," Tyleet said with curious wonder. "Bird-fish…"  
  
Skot snorted and held up one fish in front of Tyldak, who frowned in disgust. "Oh, I'm sorry, that probably means you can't eat them, doesn't it?" he didn't get the laughter he expected, but the Glider did crack a rare smile. Krim and Pike were hollering.  
  
"You find strange things when you look around… and some of them aren't so bad, are they?" Skywise said to Scouter. They were standing together looking out at the blue distance at the head of the boat, apart from their companions' merriment. Scouter blinked, looked aside and was surprised to find the stargazer smiling at him without a hint of mischief.  
  
He sighed, thinking that he ought to apologize for the previous night's events but not feeling keen about the task. Skywise would, of course, forgive him in an instant; It was the other Elf's friendly nature, and he was too engrossed with the joy of the quest to keep a grudge. And that was perhaps what held Scouter's tongue. To forgive would mean to forget. Skywise must never forget, must always know that there is someone watching his steps to see where they led, ready to stop him before he took them all on a leap through the fire. He must never forget where he may be headed.  
  
"I'm not sorry for what I said," Scouter answered sternly, steeling himself. He expected Skywise to scowl or be taken aback. The stargazer did neither.  
  
"I didn't think you were," he said, returning his gaze to the horizon. "And still, here we are."  
  
"You know I'm only here for Dewshine."  
  
Skywise frowned. "I suspected as much. But Aroree is only here for me, and Pike is here for Skot and Krim, and Venka for Tyleet… we wouldn't have gotten this far otherwise. It's a good thing that you're all along to get my head out of the clouds when I need it."  
  
"But…" Scouter held his head low now. A strange shame crept into his mind at Skywise's composure, at his willingness to forgive and accept. He expected a clash; he looked forward to it. And here was the mad stargazer acknowledging the truth of his words… "I said more."  
  
A measure of playfulness now overtook Skywise's expression. His smile widened. "Scouter, when I say you were right, take what you get and drop the matter."  
  
For a moment, Scouter stood confused and amazed as the other Elf joined the laughing and chattering group at the back. Slowly, he began to smile, feeling a weight drop from his heart. Stretching, he took a deep calming breath of the cool, pleasant air and decided, if only for a short while, to enjoy himself and the journey.  
  
That night, they held a howl.  
  
Only four of Skywise's group were full-blooded Wolfriders, but all ten of them had been to a tribe howl more than once. The joined experience on the one hand and the terrifying newness that made them much closer on the other all but eliminated any reluctance to participate. They howled passionately, in grief, in pain, in release, in cleansing. They howled to the two moons, striving to pierce the heavy blanket of clouds and reach the sky. They howled in sweet union, in bitter remembrance, the ancient song of life and death and the celebration and acceptance of both. They howled for her.  
  
"This howl is for Kahvi, chieftess of the Go-Backs!" Wept Krim as she threw her head back and the tears flowed freely down her face.  
  
"For Kahvi, daughter of Two-Spear, Blood of Five Chiefs!" Pike added, a sharp, lamenting cry.  
  
"F-for Kahvi…" Skot started, but his voice broke halfway through, and he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Go-Backs don't cry for the dead. Go-Backs dance, Go-Backs sing. Eight eight eights of turns with the Wolfriders changed Skot and Krim. They learned to replace the dance with the howl, and they learned to shed tears. The howl honored the warrior's memory, and the tears let those left in this world go on living. For Kahvi the Go-Back, they cried.  
  
Still there were two sitting apart from the group. Venka seemed composed, refusing to give in even to the howl. Tyldak was staring at his companions with wide and glazed eyes. They were howling for his lovemate and he had no part in it. They were not crying but singing, theirs was the way of the wild, the way of understanding and acceptance and peace, and he had only tears that were running dry.  
  
They howled. Now that the quest was on the way, they had time enough for mourning, and it was slowly sinking in. They let it out before it could hurt them. There was no point in keeping the tears inside. She'd want it, she'd want them to howl and sing for her and tell good tales and journey on and out of the shadows. That was the Way, and it in turn was both their lives and deaths.  
  
Three more days passed, cloudy, bleak and uneventful. They slept and sang and fished and told tales, and most of all were sorely bored. The wind was swift and steady, carrying them forth in the right track. The nights were rainy and cold and the days treacherously peaceful. By the forth day, they had consumed the last of the meat and fruits they brought along, and had to face the unpleasant prospect of living on raw fish for the rest of the journey. Water posed no problem, but it was painfully clear it would if the rain ever stopped. All the ten travelers wished nothing more than for this particular part of the quest to end. They wanted to feel dry and solid land beneath their feet again, run, hunt, and see something other than water. The Holt-born missed the smell of trees and the Wolfriders missed their mounts.  
  
They became irritable and uneasy. Skywise and Scouter clashed often, the latter even once accusing the stargazer of knowingly getting them lost in the Vastdeep Water and claiming they'll see no dry land again. No one took him seriously for more than a minute, but the gnawing fear of drifting out in the water with no idea where they were headed took lease of their minds. From uncomfortable they became anxious and desperate, and still the hours were ticking away.  
  
Blessed evening fell on the fifth day of their journey. The darkness made the water black and sparkling and brought with it stronger wind, which meant faster progress. The Elves cuddled together for warmth, as the nights were growing colder and colder, and fell asleep quickly seeking to escape the dullness of the day and hoping to see land by morning. The two moons shone high, all was peaceful.  
  
In the little hours, Dewshine woke to a strange sound from the water. Small waves were rising and falling around the boat, splashing on its sides. The little Wolfrider rose, eyes wide, shivering under the blowing wind. The night was silent as it had never been in the Holt, and the silence and moonlight everywhere and the lack of green shelter unnerved her. She walked softly from one end of the boat to the other, taking in and comforted by the sight of her sleeping friend sprawled around. Bending over the edge, she looked down at the dark blue depths, straining her eyes. Some black shape was down below, she could see it moving, encircling them. It was long and thick and there didn't seem to be an end to it.  
  
Fear crept into her steely heart. Venka often said it was a strange thing that they didn't run into anything else as bizarre as the bird-fish. When Tyleet retaliated, she said she didn't really mean anything by it, but the tone of warning was evident in her voice.  
  
What else was there under the endless water? Dewshine shuddered. They had no way to know, no Elf ever knew. What wonders lay there, what horrors, were for their dreams and nightmares alone. And that was where they kept them, never guessing, never thinking they could be just down below right now, waiting, waiting…  
  
A tremendous wave rose from the flat surface, a rising circular splash as big as the entire boat. In its center was the huge scaly shape of a monstrous snake's head, leaping out from beneath the waves, a long neck arching against the night sky, bright yellow eyes gazing down. A shrill, horrified scream escaped from Dewshine's mouth and mind. Scrambling, she lost her balance and fell into the water.  
  
Wave and outcry woke the others. They stumbled to their feet and battled for balance, ground and their wits. Fancy themselves brave as they may there wasn't one among them who did not panic at the sight, the unearthly, horrendous sight of the towering sea serpent. It was beyond their minds to grasp. They stumbled and fell to their knees and mewled like stricken cubs, trembling at the vision of that magnificent creature of the depth. It loomed over them a moment, then dove back under with under great splash and reappeared at the other side of the boat. The water was growing wild and violent, throwing the small vessel and passengers about like leafs in a storm.  
  
Chaos reigned, and in the chaos, they were forced to pick themselves up and regain their senses, as the other choice was certain death. But their arrows and pikes and knives did little to the gigantic body covered in hard scales like flat stones. They shouted and sent to it trying to force it away by the sheer power of their wills, so far has fear driven them.  
  
In the hisses and shouts and the thunder of rising and falling water, the darkness and the desperate fight, Scouter thought he was imagining, mad with fright, when he caught sight of Dewshine struggling in the water. He ran a trembling hand over his face but the image did not disappear. With a snap, he realized she really was there, knocked overboard somehow.  
  
With a wail of despair he leaped to the edge and was all but ready to jump after her, but Tyldak was quicker than him. The Glider's huge leathery wings proved as useful in water as in the air, and even with only one functioning properly, he was an excellent swimmer. He reached the half- conscious Elf in a matter of moments. Back on the boat, the whole world was gone for Scouter as he watched them battle to get back, all the world but a voice in the back of his mind insisting it should have been him out there.  
  
As the battle raged around her, between thrust and strike with her dagger, Aroree suddenly felt, and more than that knew, that it was up to her and no one else. Without another thought, the Glider turned Wolfrider, once timid and weak of body and will, sprang to the sky. The long dagger firmly in her grasp, reflecting the starlight. She flew a wide circle around the serpent's head, narrowly avoiding its blows. Gritting her teeth in the true defiance of a Wolfrider, an Elder and one on a quest, she plunged forth and thrust the blade down to the handle into the serpent's golden eye.  
  
The beast gave a mighty sound, half hiss half roar. Writhing, it struck down Aroree and sent her tumbling to the black water. It trashed in agony, waving its massive head and tail, lashing out blindly but unable to do them harm. Pillars of water rose, white foam gathering, the horror and might and magnificence of nature exposed in all its greatness, falling before the blade, falling before the civilized. And for a moment, one moment in an eternity of fear and dark and battle, it was beautiful, the wild unleashed sea and the violent struggle and bloody triumph and the awe-inspiring beast retreating before them. It swam away, disappearing beneath the ocean waves calming and shining under the rising dawn, and they stood and looked after it with tears in their eyes.  
  
  
  
*************************  
  
  
  
The sun was starting its slow decent the next day when they set foot on solid ground.  
  
The hours that passed since they woke in the night to terror and battle were long but seemed longer. At first they didn't speak at all, simply couldn't. In silence they helped Dewshine, Tyldak and Aroree back into the boat and set the sail high against the wind, and the silence accompanied them throughout the stretching, bleak morning. Back when they first found the Palace of the High Ones, the tribe was struck by awe, but the silence did not last, since there was still the driving force, the burning need to know more. Now they were brought face to face with the might of creation, something that was not only magnificent but also alien, not familiar and benevolent but terrible, something beyond them, far stronger, far greater. And they have stood up to it and won. Silence reigned.  
  
Halfway through the morning, the silence had to be broken. Something was wrong with the two hurled overboard. At first they were lightheaded, then shivering and queasy, and soon fell into a strange semi-conscious haze. They curled up near the curving side and didn't answer sending. As their friends hovered above them concerned and puzzled, Skywise forced himself to stay aside and think. His first instinct was to rush to the obviously suffering Aroree and try to comfort her, but he knew it'll do her no good. She needed his mind now; not his heart… but neither provided him with any clue as to what could have happened.  
  
Straining to think, his face twisting with anxiety, he cast a long look around. Scouter was looking murderous as he held Dewshine's limp and trembling body close, his brown eyes moist and beckoning, begging, hoping. Tearing his gaze away, the stargazer looked for the two who had ever been his aid so far. Tyleet seemed as lost as he; she stood there trying to advise but not really knowing how. Tyldak was quiet, pale and blinking rapidly, as if trying to stay awake. Just as it struck Skywise that the winged Elf too came in contact with the water during the fight, he rose, stumbled over to the edge and was violently sick.  
  
"It's poison…" he managed, gasping at the cold sea air. "That thing was a snake, its venom was in the water…" catching Skywise's horrified gaze, he quickly nodded at Dewshine and Aroree. "No, them first. I'll be fine, I just touched it. But they…"  
  
A rough bout of coughing cut his words short. Skywise looked away with a sinking feeling gathering at the pit of his stomach. Poison! And here they were on the water, alone, no healer…  
  
The other Elves, who heard, now looked at him, expecting another miraculous discovery, another brave invention, anything. The trust they placed in him that he thought a welcome blessing became a heavy burden. He didn't know what to do! Why were they all looking at him like that?  
  
Abruptly, Scouter gave a wail and leaped to his feet. Before anyone could move, he was grabbing Skywise by the front of his clothes, shaking him violently. "It's all *your fault*! You killed them! Couldn't live well enough, could you, had to drag us all along on this *madness*! They're going to *die* now. You killed them, stargazer! You - "  
  
"*Land! Dry land!*" Skot shouted then, waving his hand and causing one and all to look up and to the distance in surprise and hope. There rose a distant peak, lumpish and gray against the sky, growing larger as the wind carried them forth. They could almost make out the shapes of trees. Scouter threw Skywise down, slamming him on the hard, wet bottom, and without a look back pushed Skot away from his position in the front and scanned the horizon with his matchless eyes.  
  
"It's the old land, all right," he said heavily, pointing at the peak. "See? Blue Mountain. Aroree gets to end her life not that far away from home."  
  
"Stop it!" Tyleet's voice rang out loud and clear in the cool air. "Stop it right now! No one is going to die. We'll think of something, Skywise will think of something, surely!"  
  
Scouter snorted in unconcealed contempt, but fell silent for the rest of the journey. He sat on the wooden bottom holding Dewshine close and ignored it when they called his name.  
  
Soon shadows were starting to fall and the boat drifted into the shallow water. It was a small sandy shore with white rocks lining it and seashells by the hundreds, and around the sand rose the forest in all its glory, green, infinite and familiar. The lush greenness, the scent of the trees, the birds singing, the entire of the forest assaulted the senses, sending waves of the delight of homecoming spreading inside Elfin souls. But what was supposed to be a joyous, cherished moment, a moment to make all their trouble worthy, was spoiled and made bitter by the sight of the two that lay shivering in their friends' arms.  
  
The small group, hours ago so confident and lively, marched a short distance into the shade of the treetops, and dropped to the ground between a thick oak's roots in despair born out of fear and uncertainty. Not even the sight of the trees could comfort them now. Though now awake, Dewshine and Aroree were weak and disoriented, and could neither stand nor speak. Skywise's mind raced but reached nowhere, and still they were all sitting there, looking at him with wide, anxious eyes…  
  
He scanned the forest. Pike and Tyleet were uncomfortably rising to try to light a fire. Scouter was hunched over his lovemate, his gaze as if seeking to drill a hole in Skywise's skull.  
  
"Go ahead, *stargazer*," he snarled, spitting out the last word as if it was an insult. Skywise tried to ignore him, but he was now standing and walking toward him, radiating such force as he had only seen in Cutter before. "Think! Find us some miracle! Their blood in on you!"  
  
The stargazer didn't move. A low growl began to rise from deep in Scouter's chest. Tyleet, Skot and Venka scrambled to their feet, ready to leap in if the battle of wills came to physical struggling. Skywise had no intention of letting it, but Scouter was a Wolfrider heart, soul and blood. If to make his foe show throat would mean ripping that throat out, so be it.  
  
"Do something already!" He screamed in frustration. Skywise stood there with his blue eyes not leaving the trees, not looking back at him. "Anything, curse you! This is your doing, you brought us here, you got us this far, you lured us on this mad, hopeless, idiotic que – !"  
  
He never got the chance to finish. Quick as a burst of skyfire, Skywise spun and slammed his fist viciously into his stomach. As Scouter staggered, choked and huddled with pain, the stargazer rammed into him and drove him to the ground. The older Elf's head banged on the muddy soil, he let out a screeching yelp of pain. Skywise was virtually perched on his chest, holding him down with two trembling hands on his shoulders, his face red and eyes flaring.  
  
The others sprang forward, reaching out to pull the stargazer away, but he didn't make another move. Scouter had trouble breathing. He coughed and tried to throw Skywise off him, but to no avail. When he relaxed his muscles and stopped struggling, the other Elf spoke, in a low, menacing voice that was far from his usual easygoing tone, frighteningly so.  
  
"You misbegotten son of a human…" he quietly said. "You think it's only your lovemate lying there? You think I don't care, is that what you think? That this is what I wanted to happen? Is that what you think? That dreaming makes me any more less of an Elf?"  
  
"Dreaming!" Scouter blurted out. "Dream on, for all I care, but you're bringing what's real to ruin with these dreams!"  
  
"I've tried to make you listen…" Skywise growled.  
  
"And when that didn't work, oh *thoughtful* one, you just rammed into me!"  
  
Skywise blinked abruptly, as if only now realizing what he did in his rage.  
  
But he was on top now; he was in control now. This was the Way, this was right, this was proper. He wasn't giving up now, and he had every right not to.  
  
"Listen," he said through gritted teeth, fighting for control. He won't be like Cutter, won't force others to accept his words blindly. But they'd listen, they have to listen, or it'll be just as bad. "I didn't know what was going to happen on the way, but I thought the goal was worth it, and so did you. I'm not turning back now, and I ask you not to, either. I ask you, Scouter, please, I need you. I need you to tell me if I'm going too fast, because I might have, and now…" he glanced up, locking eyes with Aroree a moment before the spark of alertness in her gaze faded. Scouter noticed that, he saw, and tipped away his gaze. He straightened and rose, allowing the other Elf to rise as well. "Dreaming got us into this and dreaming will get us out. Let me think, just let me think for a moment…!"  
  
Indignantly Scouter stepped backward and brushed the dirt off his hair and clothes. He had reached no resolution, Skywise could see, and maintained his gaze on him. Someone began speaking quietly, but he didn't hear. When their eyes made contact suddenly, he felt a soft sending. Not words, images or impressions precisely, but the feeling of grudging respect of sorts, and behind it, an uneasy plead.  
  
"Whistling leafs," he said in sudden inspiration.  
  
Venka and Skot, who were conversing in low voices, stopped and looked back at him. By the trees Tyleet, Krim and Tyldak raised their heads in surprise. Pike's eyes brightened. Scouter was giving him a questioning look.  
  
"Whistling leafs!" Skywise echoed confidently. "We're in the old land, remember? They should be everywhere – and they help, or Cutter wouldn't have been with us today!"  
  
Understanding dawned on Scouter's tense face like sunlight. Skywise glanced around him and saw the others visibly relax. He wanted to smile, but couldn't, not yet.  
  
"Let's go," he said to Scouter. "You and I. Quickly! We don't have much time!"  
  
The other Elf nodded without thinking. The stargazer then turned to the rest of his companions. Tyleet and Venka, born in the New Holt, still sat in the shade of the trees nursing the fallen and looking at him with bewildered, expecting eyes, as did Skot, Krim and Tyldak. Pike, for whom the land was as familiar as an old friend, solemnly stood up to join them, but Skywise shook his head at his questioning gaze.  
  
"Stay here, Pike. Tell them a story, will you, one with a happy ending? Don't let them give up hope."  
  
The Howlkeeper's disappointment lasted but a moment. Nodding, he settled back in the group that formed a circle around him. A fire was burning bright and warming nearby and the night shadows crept around but couldn't come upon them. Scouter and Skywise rushed away into the old, dark forest, the forest of old that had grown wilder, stranger with the turning seasons, between trees that were older than mountains, thick and monstrous, unfriendly and unfamiliar. The night they had embraced as cubs was now ancient and fell heavy on them, constant reminder that this had once been home, but no more and never again.  
  
Behind them, for a while they could still hear Pike's voice, quiet and soft as he wove a well-known legend, called Timmain's Bargain, for those left behind.  
  
"And she climbed out of the hide-hole and walked down the Path of Men… and out into the world that was preying on her kin, to find hope and bring aid… anything that may ease away the fear of the nights, so new to her people…"  
  
For a while, it was constant and comforting, a painfully brief while, and then it faded in the distance and they were alone.  
  
They ran between the trees and bushes, seeking, probing, nervously watching each other's back, wary and aware of the sounds of the forest around them, the shadows that may at any moment spring into life. The smells of the forest, the heavy air of before the storm, tapping of small paws and rustling of leafs, it was alive and more terrible because it was once well loved. Ghosts were there, and constant reminders of friends long departed, reminding in turn of those still here, but for how much longer?  
  
They tore into the low vegetation, keen Elfin noses testing the wind for any sign of hope. The stars were rising but there was no time to look up, no time to think or to breathe. They ran, ran as the world had taught them, as life has forced them in the flight from death. They hurried, feared, were forced to try harder, let go of calm and ease of mind and trust in their strengths and each other, as seemed to be so obvious in times of peace but so real only in times of trial. They were now as the ages have made them. Small, frightened scavengers with sharp senses, sharp minds and hearts of steel and rock, running through the forest in despair and delight both. Creatures of the wild thinking themselves tamed, with the wolf blood pumping in their veins and howling out in triumph.  
  
It was dark. An hour passed and deep as they went, they found none. Wind tore through the treetops, whistling menacingly, and the forest lived. Here a hunting cry startled the two Elves, they jumped, froze in their place back to back, instincts overtaking reason for a single moment. A night bird swept over their heads. Something slipped between Skywise's ankles and he didn't dare to look down. Forest-born as they may be, it was too long, far too long sine facing real danger, since facing it alone in an unfamiliar land, with the memories of dying friends' faced etched in their minds. They once ran but now they stumbled, careless and well aware of it, chilled and frustrated, and afraid.  
  
Scouter had turned around. His sharper nose caught a scent somewhere in the shifting wind. Behind him, Skywise was crouching near a cluster of bushes, narrowing his eyes trying to spot something between them. He reached forward and thrust his hand into the greenery.  
  
"*AAIEE!!*"  
  
Scouter sprang in alarm at the scream, turned and leaped to the stargazer's aid, past strife all but forgotten at the sight before him. Skywise was collapsed clutching his left arm to his chest, and a colorful reptilian tale was slinking back into the bushes. In sheer shock he was gasping and trembling, struggling not to panic completely.  
  
Without a moment's wait, Scouter rushed to him. Pulling a strap from his shirt, he tied it above the punctures marking the snake bite, tightened the bind until the limb went white and numb. He drew a knife. Skywise whimpered and jerked away, but remained still when the blade cut into the flesh, widening the wound, increasing the flow of blood and venom. His breath was quick and shallow and his eyes were wide, staring into Scouter's face, the gaze like a lifeline. Bit by bit, as the older Elf kept pressure on the wounded arm and the blood pooled to the ground, cleansed, he began to relax. He blinked and his gaze lost the look of detachedness, but he didn't take his eyes off Scouter.  
  
Scouter did his best to smile despite everything, trying to calm his friend down, but it came out forced and tired. But then Skywise feebly raised his injured hand and opened the tightened fist.  
  
Freezing, Scouter gaped. *Whistling leafs!*  
  
He began to chuckle, quietly, then louder still, until his voice rang out in the forest, defying the darkness and the fear. And soon the stargazer was laughing as well. He pulled him off the ground and embraced him as a brother.  
  
Minutes later, when they have ascertained that Skywise was well enough to travel and quickly, they set on their way back, now running swiftly and intently. Through the undergrowth and between the trees they sped, without stopping to catch their breath or choose the trail, tearing clothes and skin on outreaching branches, losing their footing more than once, but unwavering. Relief was forsaken and anxious concern pushed them on, the images of their friends sitting, waiting hovered in their minds' eyes, as if calling, and they rushed to answer. The smell of the life-saving plants clutched in their fists drove them on, and the dark of the forest and the remembrance of firelight drew them forward. And panting and stumbling they came out of the thick heart of the wood and away to the skirts of the shore where trees were few, and heard in the distance flickering fire and Pike's voice:  
  
"And he said to her: 'So ends your reign, Spirit-mother, for you have left your children to fend this world alone while coming here to quarrel with your enemy for peace you can never achieve. Now they lie there dying, and there will be no peace between us…'"  
  
Scouter's foot caught on a root sticking out. With an outcry, he fell face forward on the gravelly earth. Halting with a start, Skywise kneeled and gave him his hand, and supported him as he regained the breath that was knocked out of him until they could both run again. The fire and circle were now clearly visible; a beacon of hope in the shadows time and realization made menacing.  
  
"'Wrong you are again, Man-father,' Timmain replied. 'My people are not forsaken; and better I do peace with you now, my enemy, than defend their lives forever but hide forever in fear, never seeing the stars again…"  
  
They were almost there now. Together they have made it. Both of them stumbled, fell or sunk down in exhaustion more than once, but never remained there, a friendly hand or the memory of friendly faces giving them the strength to continue. The two moons poured down their light, the voices of the forest were disappearing. Everything will be different in the sunlight…  
  
"'That was my bargain with this world, Man-father,' cried Timmain. 'I have offered you my hand in friendship, so that if till the rising of the sun there is no blood between us, so the blood of my people will never be gone from this land.'"  
  
And there is always sunlight in the end…  
  
"And Timmain the self-shaper stretched out her arms and they became wings. And as she rose high into the simmering air of dawn, she looked back to the Man-father on the ground, and she called out: 'behold, Man-father! The night is over and gone!'"  
  
With triumphant cries, Skywise and Scouter burst out of the woods and into the circle.  
  
At once, the gathered Elves leaped to their feet, surrounding the two, sending excitedly and reaching out as if to assure themselves that they were really there, alive and well. Tyleet gasped as the gaping wound in Skywise's arm. "Timmorn's Blood!! What happened?"  
  
"Snake!" the stargazer answered, wide-eyed. "Stuck my hand into the wrong bush. If Scouter wasn't there…!"  
  
Then they both looked to where Scouter, still with a chattering Elfin cluster around him, was kneeling next to Aroree and Dewshine, rousing them gently. They'd be well by tomorrow, High Ones willing, and the quest could go on. And the quest will go on.  
  
"He had his chance to get rid of me out there," Skywise whispered in wonder. "It wouldn't have even been his fault. And I didn't put it beyond him, really. In the first few moments, I was wondering if he'd help me at all…"  
  
Tyleet gave him her fair, playful smile. Not even the darkness of the oppressing, eventful night could darken the light in her eyes. "Then you learned your lesson tonight. And if he learned his, all for the better. What was it you said when we started and didn't know of anything of all this yet? Maybe a bad start makes for a good ending."  
  
  
  
To Be Continued in chapter three, "The Dream Hive"! 


	4. Three: The Dream Hive (Part A)

Seeing as it takes me so long to write each chapter, I've decided to change my posting policy. Each chapter will now be posted in two or more parts, however those parts will still all be the same chapter. This is chapter three, part A, not the whole of chapter three. I apologize for the time it takes me to write. This story is complex and strange, and I need to be in a certain frame of mind when I continue it, so sometimes I leave it for a long time. Please bear with me if you enjoy this story. I will try to post more often.  
  
You may notice a change of style and mood near the end of this part. It's intended build-up, and the style will change back when the chapter is over.  
  
Disclaimer, notes on dialogue: see prologue.  
  
Notes on further reading concerning the themes will be posted with the next part. I hope you found my previous recommendations interesting.  
  
Finally, notes on the Abodean Elf-speak: "Tyree" indeed means "sky's gift", as evident in the names of Tyleet ("healer's gift) and the Chosen Eight. The High Tongue is the language common to all Elf tribes, and there'll be more of it in the next chapters.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Three: The Dream Hive  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1.1.1.1 "Ask yourselves, all of you... What power would Hell have  
  
if those here imprisoned were not able to dream of Heaven?"  
  
  
  
Neil Gaiman, "Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes"  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning the sun shone brighter than ever, loving and caressing. The land stood quiet and beautiful, covered in sparkling dew, green, fresh and inviting. The forest, so frightful in the night, was a beloved lush shelter and the sea a blue gem stretching away into infinity. If there were ever fear, anger or pain, they were all but forgotten, melting away with the clouds.  
  
Skywise was woken from a strange dream by the sound of laughter. Blinking, rubbing his eyes he sat up groggily and smiled. On the grass in the outskirts of the wood, Scouter and Dewshine were chasing Tyleet, laughing. The two lovemates did not even seem shaken by the previous day's events, but it was impossible to be upset in any way under the sun, and seeing how Dewshine and Aroree both made a splendid recovery. The stargazer yawned and stretched, forgetting the days and distance ahead, content in the knowledge that for the while, he could rest.  
  
Just as he was looking around at his mostly sleeping companions, Dewshine noticed he was up and about and rushed to him, beaming. "Good morning to you! Is it true that you were my other savior?"  
  
"You could say that," Skywise replied slyly, enjoying the expression on Scouter's face. "Are you sure you should be running about like this?"  
  
She laughed, dismissed his worry with a shake of a hand. "Nonsense! I'm fine, and so are Aroree and Tyldak for the matter. Fine and eager to go on!"  
  
Further, Pike turned over and blinked at them as he tried to push himself up on one elbow. "Wha - ? So soon? We've been on the water for five days, for Freefoot's sake. Don't we get to enjoy the forest a while? I'm sick of raw fish."  
  
"Aw, you're going soft, Wolfrider!" Krim laughed. Skywise grinning teasingly.  
  
"You want to hunt, then?" he asked. The others voiced their agreements, rising, grateful and looking forward for the chance to finally put their muscles and senses to use again after five long days. The forest was beckoning – the forest of the Old Land, on all its familiar and new wonders.  
  
Soon thereafter, Pike and Scouter were each leading a hunting party into the woods. Five Elves in each, eager and smug, spears and knifes and swords held firmly, ready to draw first blood. They were in their element now, and the woods seemed to acknowledge that. The shadows danced but did not pounce or trap, birds sang and little animals shuffled between bushes. The smells were clear, sharp and good. Normally, the Wolfriders hunted at night, but now they were hungry and weary of inaction. The sunny afternoon will have to do, and it did nicely.  
  
Progressing deep into the greenery, headed Southward, Scouter's group came across the sweet and familiar scent of a deer, swept toward them by soft wind. Dewshine and Tyleet were uncomfortable without their wolf-friends, but Venka enthusiastically took on the tracking task, happy to find the well known in the mess of newness the last days have been. Skywise trailed behind lazily, sniffing at flowers and playfully wondering how Aroree and Tyldak might be enjoying themselves.  
  
Slowly they progressed, probing the trail, seeking out the quarry with quiet relentlessness and a thrill that gradually built with every mark and whiff of the faraway scent. Carefully they made their deliberate way through the undergrowth. The forest was starting to take on the distinct image of autumn. The leaves on the low bushes were turning a brown-red taint, fruits and berries hung ripe and fresh, just short of dropping off the heavily burdened branches. Sweet smells of flora and cool breeze hung in the air and the sound of running water came from the distance. The last remains of dew caught the sunlight. The woods celebrated life and wild freedom, and the autumn joy of the last few fiery days before the first snow falls.  
  
Scouter stopped in the shade of a thick oak, halting the others behind him with a lifted hand. He sniffed at the wind and strained his matchless eyes. The four hunters tensed, sensing their leader's sudden, intent concentration. Then he blinked. Pike's joyful open sending rang in the five's minds.  
  
*(Any luck? For ourselves, we have us a lovely deer here…)  
  
Four eager gazes shot up to meet Scouter's in a silent, disgruntled protest. "That's got to be ours," Tyleet muttered through clenched teeth.  
  
Scouter seemed to agree, but actually looked amused. *(Pike, you Troll, we found it first.)  
  
*(Is that so?) A tease of a sort entered the Howlkeeper's mind-voice then. (We'll let you have it, then… if you're there in time, of course.)  
  
He faded; Scouter didn't consider the challenge one moment.  
  
"In time?" he growled. "I'll show him time! What are we waiting for?"  
  
And as one they sprung into the forest as an arrow from a bow, swift and intent, tore through the maze of fair trees and tangled bushes. Dry gold, brown and red leafs rustled under their feet, the cool air brushed against their faces and they were running for determination and joy. The scent was carried on the kind wind, they needed but to breathe deeply to ascertain they were dead on track. It wasn't more than a few quick moments before they noticed the large form of their quarry dancing the dance of hunter and prey between the trees. Pike's band was already closing in on the magnificent beast, but for all their greater number, they were taking on a foe beyond their abilities. The stag – tall, heavy and with horns the height of an Elfin child – won't be felled by five Elves and no wolves.  
  
The hunters seemed to have acknowledged that. They were trying to surround the huge animal but with little success. So long as the beast kept its distance, they were enjoying the mere attempt, but any moment now, someone might be hurt.  
  
Scouter let out a chilling hunting cry and stormed into the fray, the other four close behind. For a few beautiful minutes, the world was hoof and horn, stone and metal, rushing blood, wits, speed and sinew. There was the quarry, the blade and the high noon sun, and the smell of grass and flowers and sweat and fear. There was first blood; sweet and sparkling mad fire in every heart. Shouts and cries and gasps of thrill, and the red shine of the razor's edge and the wild dance of life and death.  
  
It lasted a few exhilarating moments – then without warning the stag kicked low and its stony hoof found Skot's chest and flung the Go-Back ten feet away. The moment it took his nine companions to make sure he was still breathing was also all it took the wounded and exhausted beast to storm away far into the shelter of the trees.  
  
"Curses on your empty head, Skot!" Krim yelled in frustration as Pike and Tyleet helped the dazed and grudgingly shameful Elf to his feet. "One moment's wait, and - !"  
  
"Patience from a Go-Back? High Ones forbid," Venka answered wearily, sinking to the grass. Most of the others nodded in disappointed agreement. But Aroree took to the air, and was gazing downward from a great height. An audible chuckle escaped her. The others looked up, tired and grumbling now that the battle-rage had left them and in no mood for any more startling discovery. Aroree huffed at their disregard and descended.  
  
"It hasn't gone far, if you would like to know," she said with a dismissing wave of her hand in the direction their prey fled. "And it hasn't the sense to hide well, either."  
  
And then she had a good laugh as the hunters scrambled to their feet and fell over each other in their hurry.  
  
"Where?" Pike gasped.  
  
"Follow me!" In one smooth motion, the Glider was in the air, leading her hungry yet hopeful friends on a short and eager run between the trees. They now approached the area of thinly spread trees at the edges of the forest, where there was no hiding for small or large game. Here was their escaped quarry, looking around wide-eyed. Blood was pooling to the ground, and the smell of blood roused them and awakened their predators' hearts and minds. With wild howls and flashing metal, they were upon it.  
  
For the beast, it could be said it fought well, but injured and worn out and confronted by ten starving Elves determined not to lose it again, it never had any chance to begin with. They encircled it, pushed it away from the protective trees and into the open and thrust and struck at it with bloodstained blades until the proud stag, bloody and torn, kneeled and staggered to the ground. Venka pinned its neck and landed the killing blow.  
  
The silence of death fell, and the triumphant Elves laughed and cheered in its face. They stood round the fallen lovely beast and howled long and hard.  
  
Yet in the midst of the sweet victory, a shadow seemed to suddenly cover the face of the sun. Tensing, the ten glanced up, nervously clustering around each other – and then Tyleet gave a shriek, for the shadow was at once upon them.  
  
A great white bird of prey, claws extended and beak open in a threatening cry, fell like lightning from the heavens and snatched the torn body of the stag away into the sky.  
  
Though it had been eight eight eights of turns since last they were under such an attack, the fear it struck into them, the instinctive scattering, running as fast as their feet would carry them, was all too similar. Gasping and cursing they dived into the grass to escape the deadly outreached talons. The air whooshed and dust and leafs were flung away under the rising wind of the beating of huge wings. But one moment did they have to flee and already the claws touched ground and closed around their prey, nearly impaling Pike and the Go-Backs. The Howlkeeper hurled himself against Skot and they rolled away at the very last second, but when the bird was soaring away and they stumbled to their feet, breathing hard, Krim wasn't with them.  
  
Skot gave a cry that broke halfway through. Wide-eyed and trembling the two scanned the field, sending frantically to their companions. Scouter was helping the shaken Tyleet up, farther away, Venka was kneeling by Skywise and Dewshine, Tyldak and Aroree gazed longingly after the bird that stole their kill. But Krim was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"She's not with us!" Skot choked out, grabbing Pike's shoulders. He glanced up, meeting the others' eyes with a look of desperate anxiety. "Krim! She's not here!"  
  
"What?!" Skywise screamed out, not even trying to appear calm. Tyleet and Dewshine erupted in cries of shock and despair. Once in the quest the group had already almost lost two of its members to the unknowing cruelty of the world. Almost, saved narrowly by friendship, determination and magnificent pure luck, but those cannot abide forever, and then what? Nine small bodies trembled as their minds raced with the most horrible of possibilities…  
  
Ever the calm, Venka lifted her head and thundered out her friend's name in an open sending, and the Elves held their breathes, praying…  
  
*(All right – I'm all right! Look *upward!*)  
  
Krim's voice was strong and exuberant in their minds, not a hint of fear in the hardy Go-Back's words or tone. With an overwhelming sense of relief clashing with renewed anxiety and strangely chilling confusion, they threw their heads back to glance at the blue sky, squinting at the sun. The immense hawk was flying low, dragged down, albeit slightly, by the weight of its catch, and on one of its great legs, Krim was holding on to dear life and laughing as the wind swept through her hair.  
  
"Timmorn's blood!" Scouter and Venka shouted, their eyes growing wide. Pike gave a wail and pointed aimlessly at the bird while Skot was cheering, both relieved and, after a Go-Back fashion, proud of his courageous lifemate. Tyleet, despite herself, turned around and buried her eyes in Skywise's chest. The stargazer stood spellbound by the sight, absently he heard Tyldak gasp as if in pain. Dewshine tugged on Aroree's sleeve, and the Glider kicked off the ground and slid into a graceful flight by the bird that carried her companion away.  
  
Krim didn't seem the least frightened, she was having the time of her life, freely up in the air. A Go-Back to the end, she gave no thought to consequences, and as he looked at her Skywise couldn't help but think she was right to do so. He knew he would never be as reckless and foolish – and thus never as carefree and joyous as she was now, in deadly danger and laughing, laughing…  
  
Now he saw the pathetically small and yet swift and intent form of Aroree as she streaked through the sky, following the bird, and realized with a pang of terror that they will soon be out of sight. Calling out to the group, he broke into a wild run through the high grass and scattered rocks and between the trees. They followed instantly on his heels and soon past him, struggling to keep their eyes on the way and on the bird at the same time and not always succeeding. The sun had risen high, blinded them and made them sweat and pant as the crazy chase went on and on. They stopped one moment to help Dewshine up from a vicious fall when Aroree's voice rang out from above in a thrilled cry:  
  
"Ayooah! Behold! It's a bond-bird!"  
  
"A – huh?" the news did nothing to ease Skywise's confusion, and he simply didn't have the breath or time to shout back. He tried to send, but Aroree wasn't responding, and soon the others were already running again in the all but useless attempt to keep up and he had no choice but to pursue, with the anxiety still eating at him. His precious lovemate, up there…  
  
After what felt like forever in hot pursuit, Aroree finally admitted to herself that she was getting tired. Long turns in the Holt, surrounded by trees, did not prove well on her flying skills. Yet this shocking find, this heaven-sent gift, a bond-bird of Blue Mountain, gave her strength to continue whenever she thought she'd be forced down by exhaustion. Gasping with effort she strained herself just enough to catch up with it and fly by its leg, where Krim was perched, reaching for her knife.  
  
"I'll teach this big wench to steal our kill – and that's good meat for everyone," she said casually, giving the Glider a wolfish smile. "You ready to catch me when it drops, fawn-eyes?"  
  
"Krim, don't! Have you a rope?"  
  
The Go-Back seemed surprised at that, but reached to her belt. "Found one in the boat. Why - ?"  
  
"Give it here!" This was dangerous, Aroree knew. She will have to be quick and vigilant as she was not sure she could be. But already she was falling behind, and glancing below she saw some of the group were also unable to keep up with the pace. If she was to work her mad plan, it had to be now.  
  
Fear overtook her momentarily, but she buried it. Skywise was not afraid, why should she be any different? No, she will not back down, the moment was hers.  
  
With one smooth motion, she reached and snatched the rope from Krim's belt. The Go-Back gave a cry of startled alarm but could not stop her companion. Then, in a maneuver that could not have been sleeker or more exerting, Aroree passed over the bird's back, caught its other leg in the rope and hurried down to her friends. The rope flailed behind her and Krim was shouting and cursing, the Glider's face was awash with perspiration and her chest ached, but she tossed the end of the rope down.  
  
"Grab hold!" she cried out desperately. "All of you!"  
  
"What?? You can't possibly – !" Pike screamed, but Skot shoved him aside and lunged for the dangling rope, gritting his teeth as it scraped his palms but not letting go. Scouter and Dewshine soon followed, dragging the line low enough for Venka and Skywise to grab and pull it down with all their strength and weight. Tyleet missed the rope but threw her arms around Venka's waist, while Tyldak cursed loudly and somehow managed to grab the back of Skywise's tunic. Eight strong bodies moved by steely wills held onto the rope that had become a friend's lifeline, and that sufficed.  
  
The bird was halted violently in mid-flight. It gave a shriek and shook its tangled leg, flapping its huge winds wildly. Krim muttered something that was both curse and prayer and let go before she could be thrown down.  
  
For one moment, the world was open air and the ground coming close at a terrifying speed and the beat of her heart like drums in her ears. And she thought it can't be like this, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen, not like this, not like this…  
  
Then slender but strong hands caught her, and she was safely in Aroree's waiting arms.  
  
She gasped, coughed and managed to sputter. "By the great ice wall! You and your silver-haired friend… where do you find these ideas??"  
  
The Glider simply smiled.  
  
Gratefully she descended, feeling her breath grow stable and deep. Krim's legs only touched the firm ground and she already hurried to the group and caught her own share of the rope. Bit by bit, groaning and trembling with raw physical effort, the ten Elves forced down the great bird. After felling the sea snake, the new challenge was welcome, looked in the eye; once again the civilized, resourceful, intelligent and creative was put to the test against the bestial and untamed. Once again it – they – shall emerge triumphant. That was what the quest had become all about.  
  
Bit by bit, they dragged the king of the sky from its realm.  
  
The bird wasn't fully grown yet, Aroree noticed as it came closer. If it was fully adult she had no doubt they would never have succeeded, it would simply have been too big. 'Ah well, it's a start! And small loss so long as it can carry us into the air… me and Tyldak!'  
  
Through the mess of grunting Elves clinging to the ground she caught Skywise's eye. He, too, had seen the almost obsessive passion the Winged Elf had put into the task, and nodded at her in merry acknowledgement. Soon, the sky will not be denied to any of them, no more.  
  
The great hawk was grounded; its massive body resting spread out on the Earth. The ten of them had climbed on its back and wings and made sure it won't try to escape them. Aroree stepped forward, to their catch's head, and stroked its neck in defiance of the snapping beak. Pike, who was sitting on the head, snickered.  
  
She looked into the creature's eye, as she had into her beloved Littletrill's so many ages ago, and gently sent. *(Shall I let you go? Perhaps we could be friends…)  
  
A gasp rose from the gathered ten as the immense bird relaxed. Aroree petted its head fondly and it made a strange, soft sound. At the Glider's nod, they slid off its body and gazed in wonder and excitement, yet did not dare to come close to the mighty beak, nervously suspicious. "This easy?" Scouter whispered to a frowning Dewshine.  
  
But there was one among the group who seemed neither untrusting nor afraid. Tyldak's eyes were wide with amazed joy and he was smiling strangely as he came forth and slipped one misshapen talon on the smooth feathers. Aroree beamed at him.  
  
"A bond-bird!" He breathed, drinking in the sight of the beast. "She's magnificent! I had thought… well, seeing as Blue Mountain… one would think they died out!"  
  
"They have not, as haven't we," Aroree replied. She couldn't possibly be smiling any wider. "Let her be a sign of hope for you, my friend. I wanted to catch her for you."  
  
The eight others hesitantly began to approach the bird. It had stood up and was looking around it in what appeared to be discomfort, but it let them stroke its mighty wings and legs and beak and encircle it in quiet wonder. They were fascinated, ignoring the two Gliders. But Skywise, concerned for lovemate and friend, and Dewshine from the corner of her eye kept their own watch. They saw Tyldak's large eyes go wet, saw him reach to Aroree with the one healthy wing, he seemed lost for words.  
  
"You mean that? Truly?" He said softly. "For me?"  
  
Aroree merely nodded, the glow of joy on her face. She took one step back, left him to admire the new prize with all the awe and delight she feared he had lost forever.  
  
"It needs a name," Pike said abruptly, glancing at the others from beneath the mighty tail. The Elves stopped their stroking and admiring, exchanged glances uncertainly. "If we're keeping it… it must have a name," the Howlkeeper insisted.  
  
Eight pairs of questioning eyes shifted to look at Tyldak and Aroree.  
  
The Winged Elf smiled faintly at them, then turned back to the bird. "Her name will be Tyree," he answered in the High Tongue, "Tyree sky's-gift. She is ours now."  
  
The bird lifted its head and made a loud sound again. Wolfriders and Go- Backs jumped back in fear, wide-eyed and uncertain, reluctant to come close again and wondering if catching the thing was a good idea in the first place. But the two Gliders simply laughed at their fear and climbed up the broad back with experienced ease.  
  
"Stand back!" Aroree declared, and huge wings began to spread, wider, wider, as if the cover the sky, stretching away white as snow flecked with brown as the earth and, up close, beautiful beyond compare. One, two strong thrusts and the immense bird was suddenly lighter than air, hovering up to the faraway blue and the clouds. The Elves shouted and ran, throwing their fists into the air and cheering with mouths and minds. Sand and leafs were blown away at the great wind, the sun played a moment on the bright feathers and then there was nothing but a fleck in the heavens far above their heads.  
  
"High Ones keep you, Aroree!" Tyleet shouted after them, and Pike sent: *(Don't we get a ride?)  
  
*(Yes, you two cloud-heads, what are the rest of us to do?) Scouter added, though he was smiling broadly.  
  
*(Walk on!) Came Aroree's sending, which had a dreamy quality to it, distant and airy. (We shall fly ahead and see where the way leads. We'll be returning soon, I promise, don't worry for us!)  
  
"Would that we could," Dewshine muttered, and did not take her eyes off the sky.  
  
But they did go on, occasionally glancing uncomfortably at the sky yet soon giving in to the sights of the land. First they had turned, sought and found the prey the great hawk had snatched away from them and then dropped when attempting to free itself. The body was crushed and dusty, but after five days of fish, they'd have eaten it alive as well. They had a merry feast under the bright sun between the bushes and trees and went on their way with stomachs full and hearts light. They marched in a tight, quick- paced group and sang.  
  
The day passed uneventfully. Far away were distant peaks, growing nearer as they went. The two Gliders had not returned or sent to inform the group of where they were, but a strange peace overtook Skywise. Tyldak and Aroree were well in their element, and knowing of what was ahead soothed the worry that relentlessly troubled his mind since the incident with the sea snake. He walked silently with the others. Tyleet and Venka were staring wide- eyed, trying to take in every bit of their ancestors' land with their curious, childlike gazes.  
  
The sun was beginning to descend. The travelling Elves, hungry and exhausted, sunk to the ground to rest a while. The shadows were lengthening, stretched long dark fingers across the plain, and the earth was bathed in a red glow patched in the shade of the clouds. Above their heads the two moons started to appear, as if awakening, and pools of velvety darkness gathered beneath the trees. Night was announcing its coming with all the sunset's glory; the world seemed to have turned into either a flowerbed or a killing field.  
  
Scouter stood a few feet away from the rest of them, staring away to the distance, and Skywise rose to join him. For a moment they stood silently, then the sharp-eyed Elf lifted one hand and pointed to the faraway mountains that now stood stark and foreboding well within their vision, close enough for the snow on their tops to be seen.  
  
"If I understood you correctly, we'll be crossing those," he said quietly. Skywise nodded.  
  
"Yes," he replied, trying to make his voice light. "But it'll be a while, so we all have time to get used to the idea." Scouter smiled, and the stargazer continued, relieved. "We made good progress. It's so strange to see how the old land… didn't really change all that much."  
  
Scouter crossed his arms, bowed his head gravely. "Not as much as you'd think it ought to, right? The world goes on without us. It… frightens me, in a way, that the forest is still here, and the mountains are still here…"  
  
"And they'll still be here long after we're all gone," and the two of them sighed, feeling heavy and old, and strangely insignificant. Scouter looked back up.  
  
"No change," he softly said. "The shore, the woodland, the plains, and beyond them…"  
  
And he paused, as if afraid to add anything more.  
  
Skywise shuddered inwardly, unnerved by the other Elf's sudden silence. "And beyond them…"  
  
Scouter was still a moment more; there was a haunted look in his eyes as they charted the horizon, where within an hour's distant, there was something strange about the ground.  
  
"Blue Mountain," he whispered.  
  
  
  
*****************  
  
  
  
"Ah, I've missed the wind!"  
  
Aroree flung her head back and loosened her long hair, letting the rushing air take it. She had no idea how important to her was that part of her life. Eight eight eights of turns in the Holt made her tough, independent, quick-witted – even somewhat wild. But for all those gifts she never renounced, she had paid with her one pride, the outmost ecstasy of flying free, high above the earth.  
  
After the first few decades, it got easy. There were other things to do and so much to learn – she had to find a whole new life, after all, and it took time. She learned to be a Wolfrider out of necessity and in time, out of love. She thought she didn't miss the open sky, was content with tearing across the ground on a warm, furry back. Yet when they first came out of the woods to stand on the shore where the heavens were wide open, a sweet, painful yearning rose in her, a call back to the true home of her race. Now high in the air, her heart sought to burst with joy.  
  
Behind her on Tyree's wide back, Tyldak was sitting in silence, looking down at the ground rushing beneath them, a patchwork of forest-green and earth-brown. The joy he virtually radiated when they took off was replaced with a distant look, something that was not quite sadness but not exactly satisfaction, a hazy thoughtfulness she couldn't decipher.  
  
Her mind wandered, and she no longer looked at the view. She thought about long turns past, her life in the New Holt and what he could possibly have been doing all that time. She wondered about Kahvi. When they were both in the Holt together she came to know the Go-Back chieftess well, even like her in a way. But when the tough, outgoing snow Elf and the adventurous yet timid Tyldak flew away together, she was as surprised as the rest of the tribe who knew both much less well.  
  
She found herself wondering, how powerful must love be to survive all these years, how must it feel to lose it.  
  
"I never asked for your pity."  
  
Aroree was startled; Tyldak wasn't looking downward but straight at her. There was no pain in the large brown eyes, an eerie calm she was slightly frightened of.  
  
"It's freely given," she said softly. "I thought, after all that happened…"  
  
He laughed bitterly. "You thought I'd want it? How about this, then: I am not the poor freak you remember from Blue Mountain. I've been with Kahvi for more turns that you've been alive, we had harder times than you know, but she'd *never* gave me pity. And I'd be dead before I ask for it from anyone," he stiffened and stared into her eyes, challenging. "Not even you."  
  
She tried to avoid the piercing glance, but found she couldn't. "Strength then, I've to spare. Reliance. Please…" abruptly she realized how the scales have tipped, how the terms have changed. They were talking on a different level now than they had with the others, down on the ground, and there was much more between them, left from days long gone by. "Let me help, let us help. Skywise and I, we're both here for you."  
  
"What does the Wolfrider have to do with any of this?" He shot back defiantly. Aroree was almost certain he flinched.  
  
"He worries for you. He can't bear to see you break. Not you too, after Cutter and the tribe…"  
  
"So now I carry the weight of his world as well?" And with that they've come full circle – resentment, anger and now again bitterness.  
  
"Not as you may think."  
  
"Don't lie to me."  
  
Aroree was taken aback – the terms were different indeed.  
  
"This isn't what I was out for," there was pain in every word the winged Elf uttered, only partially conquered before and now bursting, hot, focused pain, and heavy tiredness. "I didn't know I'd be giving hope to that entire cursed tribe. I didn't know I'd end up out here pursuing dreams, and not even my own dreams. I wanted to heal somewhere; I don't know what I'm doing here. The quest is a good one, and High Ones know I'll abide by Skywise's cause, but why must it be me to guide all of them on it?"  
  
Suddenly, Aroree felt the pain reflected in her own soul. Tenderly she reached out to touch her old friend's hand, feeling the bond between them she long thought dead strengthen and wake. The giant hawk soared higher toward the sun, the ground was so distant it barely seemed real. "You never wanted to come, did you…"  
  
"What choice had I? What choice had Skywise? Dreamer's curse, Kahvi called it. We can never stop dreaming, though we know what we dream will never come true."  
  
Defiance lit up inside her. "Not so!"  
  
"And how would you know?" His voice oozed cruel sarcasm, not a hint of understanding it in. By now, she expected none. "You've known me long, but you can't know me well enough, not when it comes to that. When it comes to dreaming, I dream alone, and Skywise as well, and maybe that little hatchling Tyleet, but they're young, the two of them, they don't know the price yet." He gritted his teeth. "And with what they know, they want to help me."  
  
Aroree huffed long and loud. "And if you don't take their help, you're the biggest fool that ever lived on this world!"  
  
"Maybe so – but what good will it be, if I do?" There was anger in Tyldak's voice now, that Aroree was both surprised and somehow pleased to find. "Dreamer's curse, dreamer's pain. Nothing can ease it."  
  
To her horror, she found no reply to that; whatever did she know about dreaming? For all she knew, he may be right.  
  
The next few hours they spent flying in silence. The taste of it seemed to have gone sour.  
  
When the merry light of the afternoon sun was starting to take on a darker, redder shade, Aroree abruptly stopped her mount. She squinted as she studied the distance, and something seemed to have frozen in her gut. She turned to Tyldak, but he looked away, He too realized where they were headed.  
  
She became frightened, in a way. She didn't want to see what was coming, not alone.  
  
'Am I alone…?'  
  
"I want to turn back," she whispered into the wind.  
  
Form the corner of her eye, she saw him shiver momentarily. "Yes, do so."  
  
They were riding without reins, but this was not Aroree's first bond-bird, not even her tenth. With the ease of experience she whistled to it and guided it. Soon they were backtracking their path through the air until the rest of the group could be seen from above, seated to rest awhile. When the shadow of the great bird was upon them, Skywise leaped to his feet and soon was waving one hand in the air and sending to them in relieved glee. A smile crept to Aroree's lips.  
  
They landed smoothly and slid off Tyree's back. The hawk won a pat on its immense neck and free reign until called back, then rose into the air again. Tyldak went to stand by Scouter, who still was staring at the horizon, while Aroree and Skywise exchanged meaningful glances. The stargazer was outraged.  
  
"You've been gone half the day! We were worried!"  
  
"I can take care of myself, as well you know," Aroree shout back playfully. Skywise refused to relax.  
  
"You, maybe, but…"  
  
For a moment he was silent, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "How is he? Did you talk, up there?"  
  
The Glider nodded heavily, making Skywise cringe. "More than was good for either of us, I think. He… isn't as well as you may think, but I can think of nothing we can do about it, save perhaps go on and see what the way has for us."  
  
The stargazer stood considering a moment, then sadly nodded and turned back to look aimlessly at the mountains. After a moment, he gave his head a firm shake and started walking among the seated group, encouraging the tired Elves to their feet. Aroree watched him with silent admiration. Memories lay heavy on all of them in that place, but Skywise seemed to be constantly thinking only forward, wondering of the future rather than dwelling on the past. A strange strength was revealed in him now among his uncomfortable, worn companions, the very strength they seemed to need. At the moment they didn't need a chief, not the firmness of tradition and familiarity to hold on to, but a visionary who could see the way ahead when the ways already walked were pulling harder than ever before.  
  
She smiled, recalling a distant day a long week ago, when they stood in the rain and Skywise, with nothing but his unconquerable eagerness and love of the quest, rallied them on. Then she was concerned that his leadership could not last, that eagerness and curiosity would never get them as far as pure authority would. She was nothing but joyful to find herself mistaken.  
  
In minutes, though Pike and the Go-Backs didn't think twice about complaining as loudly as they could, they were on the road again. Tyree flew high above, tracking their path. Skywise took the lead along with the ever-ready Tyleet, and the stargazer seemed to be enjoying her constant chattering about how the Old Land was different from what she imagined.  
  
As they walked on, the way became harder. From flat ground dotted with scarce trees, the earth became rocky, cracked in places and hard to march quickly on. The tired Elves were panting and dragging their aching feet along, but yet not feeling inclined to stop and sleep. It was not a friendly place, shadowy and with the strange formations of hard rock all about it, twisted shapes high and stark against the night sky. Farther down the trail were trees, and among those they knew they'd feel safer. And beyond the trees… none of them cared to think about that.  
  
But getting to the trees, they found they did not estimate correctly the size of the forest patch. Within minutes of walking the group emerged into the open once more and with horrible abruptness, the view was clear ahead.  
  
There on the cold ground, under the unforgiving dark sky, Aroree and Tyldak screamed out in pain and horror at the dreadful visage that loomed over them, suddenly realer than anything they remembered. Before their fearful companions the two Gliders collapsed, weeping and covering their eyes, unwilling to face the sight. For there on the road before them lay the ruins of Blue Mountain.  
  
In all the countless turns that have passed, that gaping wound in the heart of the land did not heal the least. Rather the shattered rocks still lay as they had when the Wolfriders left the Forbidden Grove, more seasons ago than any could remember. Now they were covered with moss and dark rot and thin vegetation, but not in a pleasant way, one that would have perhaps soothed the hurting remnants or blended them with the view in a quietly venerable manner. The plants were twisted, ill-shaped, sending long dark green and muddy brown fingers across the rocks, seeking to devour and crush them. The debris were colored a shade of brown that seemed to turn dark red with nightfall, and their edges were jagged, raw, like rotten teeth or broken claws. Farther into and up the pile, where the peak of the mountain once towered, the ruins formed a crumbling hill, as high as the Father Tree, but no more. Of the pride of the Mountain nothing was left, nor of the tragic grace of the ruins, and darkness was upon it like a blanket, treasuring the horror it caused.  
  
Before it the ten companions stood lost for words, unable to move, unable to think, unable to even breath until the sun disappeared and the darkness turned the tormented scene into a mass of indiscernible shapes. Only then did they drop to their ground in their exhaustion and a sudden feeling of weight pulling on their souls, of age and despair and weariness. Long into the night, the tears of the two Gliders were spent, and hidden under trees but bare and aching before the might of time, the Elves finally found rest.  
  
  
  
*****************  
  
  
  
Tyleet slept.  
  
It wasn't a relaxed sleep to be sure; in dreams she was back at the Holt, jumping between trees, laughing as she twined flowers in her hair. Back in reality her small body shivered, and she gave a soft moan of anger and discomfort, moving and seeking out warm bodies next to hers. For many turns she had not treed with her mother and father, but back home she and Venka shared a den, and something warm, breathing and soft was always with her when she closed her eyes.  
  
The memory of the Holt and warmth and peace disturbed her like a beam of bright light against her eyes, and she cringed and shifted. The ground was hard beneath her and somehow she could feel the shadows. She wanted something to snuggle against, she missed her mother's voice, she wanted to go home.  
  
And yet no, not yet. True enough, she was very tired, and the sight of the ruins of Blue Mountain didn't make her love the Old Land any better, but as taxing as the journeying days had been, they also felt beautifully *real*. All her life was spent peacefully in the Holt, with little risk or danger or any variation from the normal routine. But she grew up on stories of the quests of the Wolfriders, the legends of the tribe, intoxicating, strange and exciting. Countless times she played making up such adventures, and now, she was living one.  
  
… And it didn't turn out to be as she expected, not at all.  
  
Would she have done any differently, had she known? Would she have forsaken her dreams if she knew to tell them apart from reality?  
  
She drifted in and out of sleep, memories of her mother and father and Little Patch luring her to long forgotten days.  
  
In dreams, the scenery changed abruptly, and she blinked her dream-eyes trying to see more clearly in the fog that suddenly appeared. Something was calling; something wanted her to come.  
  
As if enthralled, slowly she followed it, the call that came from nowhere, in wonder and strange glee. In its way, the call was sweet as honey, and clear as water, and she followed it willingly, marveling at where it may take her, for a moment all her troubles forgotten. She was free, and she was dreaming, and in dreams… in dreams, all was possible yet.  
  
  
  
****************  
  
  
  
Tyldak slept.  
  
Finally, he slept, worn out in body and spirit, though sleep did not come easily. With his injured, disabled wing useless and all but sagging, it was hard enough to walk, and lying down was nigh impossible. Every few moments, turning in his sleep, a sharp pang of excruciating pain tore through him, sometimes bad enough to make him wake in tears, praying that this time it was really a nightmare, this time he'll wake up.  
  
Never in all his long life had he been so miserable, miserable enough not to even care that he was wallowing in self-pity. Bitterly he recalled a wondrous night merely six days before, when he, Skywise and Tyleet were enthralled by the idea of crossing the Vastdeep Water, a night spent in fellowship, song and stargazing. It was better back then when there was something to distract him, and it was better yet when they captured the Bond-bird and he had thought his imprisonment on the ground was over. But flying on a mount's back served nothing but showing him how much it paled in comparison to true flight, the purest delight he lost forever.  
  
Flying… if only he could fly, everything would be all right, nothing else would matter. He would give up the quest, whatever new, still tender bonds he had formed with his companions, the chance for another view of the glittering faraway "metal Holt". High Ones, he would give up Kahvi, truly he would, if only he could fly again.  
  
But he could not, not now, maybe not forever.  
  
The full weight of *forever* landed on him out of nowhere.  
  
He shifted uneasily in dark dreams, and waves of pain surged through him again. He thought for a moment he had been once more jolted awake, and yet somehow he was still sleeping. Something was calling to him from the darkness… something was waiting there…  
  
Unwilling yet broken, as if crushed by the weight of eternity, he found that he was following the call. Now he knew he was dreaming, and in dreams, the dark felt comforting somehow.  
  
  
  
****************  
  
  
  
Skywise slept.  
  
His breath was deep and rich; there was a smile on his face.  
  
In dreams he was in the Holt, and the skies were starry, and Cutter was lying on his back by his side upon the soft green grass of the hill, gazing up, telling some old story in a sleepy tone. In his dreams, the chief hadn't aged a day.  
  
The dreams were good and sweet and peaceful, he didn't know why he was dreaming of peace at this night of all nights. But his heart was heavy with the weight of the sights and the passing days, and for but a few hours, it felt good not to care…  
  
Just for a little while…  
  
Everything could wait for the morning – finding a way around the ruins and through the mountains, keeping the group fed, keeping Scouter's new trust in him, facing Tyldak… everything that he knew he will have to handle sooner or later.  
  
It was not the stargazer's place; it had never been. And yet there he was, where he knew none else could be. How long could he remain on the edge between the two callings, the leader and the dreamer?  
  
Of what may happen if he gave in to other side, he dared not think.  
  
He wanted to go home – home, where he would need but to give advice, not to decide fates, where he was free to dream, without burdens, without waking.  
  
Home… where he could do none but dream.  
  
Where did the stargazer belong?  
  
Pain seemed to appear out of the darkness, pain of uncertainty and self- doubt, the pain he was sure he conquered. The comforting illusion of dreams faded, was fleeting between his fingers like sand, like time.  
  
Yet out of the void that remained, something else seemed to call him.  
  
It was no voice – not in the usual sense of word, but not quite like sending, gentler somehow and not quite sentient, similar to Timmain's simple mind-voice if any. Soft it was and yet firm, most of all, if he were aware enough to compare, he would have thought it to be an echo of sorts, issuing forth from someplace deep and dark, voices lost long ago…  
  
Quietly, ever so softly, it called him. He could do none but obey.  
  
In a twisted way that would have frightened him if he was awake, he became aware of standing, of walking. The dark seemed to change, the shadows shifted, the air became danker, then clear and cool, though all of that he seemed to know rather than feel. As for feeling, he felt nothing but the lure of the voice that was no voice. Slowly it drove him on.  
  
It was cold now, no longer pleasantly cool. The air stung in his throat and lungs and the ground was slippery under his feet. But it did not matter, nothing mattered, because he was still dreaming, he was still asleep. He will wake to warmth and light, dawn over the earth…  
  
The sweet, luring voice ceased with frightful abruptness, and Skywise stopped, frozen in his track, his mind focusing at once. Slowly he opened his eyes, very slowly, then blinked several times. A cry tore from his mouth and was returned in a sharp, deep echo.  
  
He was no longer with the group, and darkness surrounded him.  
  
  
  
  
  
To Be Continued in Chapter Three, Part B 


End file.
